#38: People Get Old

... and they pass away.

My mom died on January 23, 2025; we buried her on January 30, 2025.

This means I’m almost through the year of firsts:

• the first Mother’s Day,

• the first birthday,

• the first Christmas,

• the first anniversary of death,

• the first anniversary of burial, and

• the first anniversary of being an orphan of sorts, a kid without parents.

The “firsts” sting - a lot.

The seconds a little less so, the thirds, the fourths, the fifths … they just hurt.

My dad died on March 28, 2006, so this year will mark 20 years without him.

It, too, will hurt.

It’s also the annual reminder of how many moments he missed, how many more he will miss, and how much I miss him missing them. And I miss him everyday and will continue to miss him until I, too, pass away.

I’ll always have a dad-shaped hole in my heart, and now I have mom-shaped one too. Loss is like that - nothing is ever the shape of the hole it leaves, so nothing ever really fills it up. It just is. So you move on looking a bit more like swiss cheese than those who’ve yet to be stung by death.

About 10 years ago, folk singer/songwriter Lori McKenna released a great song aptly titled “People Get Old.” It was an ode to her dad who raised six kids alone after her mom passed away. It’s about simple, ordinary life, which includes, of course, getting old.

Here are the lyrics:

Someone said, “Youth is wasted on the young”
I spilled every last drop of time that summer in the sun
My daddy had a Timex watch
Cigarette in his hand and a mouthful of scotch
Spinnin’ me around like a tilt-a-whirl on his arm

Houses need paint, winters bring snow
Kids, come on in before your supper gets cold
Collection plates and daddy’s billfold
And that’s how it goes
You live long enough, people get old

I sat up right beside him in the cabin of that truck
Goin’ thirty miles-an-hour down a side road talkin’ ‘bout the fish we caught
And I’m older now than he was then
If I could go back in time, I would in a second
To his beat-up blue jeans and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off

Houses need paint, winters bring snow
Kids growin’ up and seekin’ out the window
Hittin’ every small-town dirt road
And that’s how it goes
You live long enough and people get old
Yeah, people get old

Daddy keeps busy in the aftenoons playin’ cards by himself
And he shouldn’t be shovelin’ that first snow, but you know he won’t take the help
Full of pride and love, he don’t say too much but hell, he never did
And you still think he’s forty-five and he still thinks that you’re a kid

One day you’ll find yourself sayin’ the things that he said
You’ll be walkin’ down the hallway, turnin’ off every light switch
When you twirl your kids in your arms
Before you know it, it won’t take too long
They’ll be runnin’ off makin’ a life just like you did

Houses need paint, winters bring snow
Nothin’ says “love” like a band of gold
Babies grow up and houses get sold
And that’s how it goes
Time is a thief, pain is a gift
The past is the past, it is what it is
Every line on your face tells a story somebody knows
That’s just how it goes
You live long enough and the people you love get old

I often play this when I’m really feeling the loss of my parents - usually after going through yet another box of old photos or reading old cards. This song reminds me that death is just a part of the cycle of life and we all confront it at some point. It’s a universal part of the human experience, and there’s a strange comfort in that.

If you’re experiencing the pangs of loss or know you’re about to, please let yourself exprience it fully and frequently.

Grieve, cry, laugh, remember, recall, rage, take a nap, talk to a friend, and do it all over again and again and again. Remember, grief doesn’t build, it exhales, so keep exhaling. It’s a good thing. A lot of us are breathing out alongside you.

That’s it for today - that’s the post. Back soon!

xo,

Kelley

January 28, 2026