(Church member whose name I'm withholding)'s brother-in-law was in a motorcycle accident last night. He has a broken neck, cuts, and bruises. He is 80.
The person who made the request is pushing 90.
I'm sure we all feel bad for a man wrecking his bike and being seriously injured.
He's 80 years old. He's still out running the roads on his motorcycle.
I don't feel that sorry for him, not out of animosity, I don't know the man. I don't feel sorry for him because at 80 years old he is still out living a man's life. He isn't cowering in a nursing home. He isn't sitting in his own piss hoping someone will take pity on him and wash him up. He wasn't waiting for the grim reaper and watching Jeopardy. He wasn't in an easy chair wondering why the kids hadn't called. In his eighth decade of life, he was out living. No Jell-O cups for this man. He was out getting bugs in his teeth.
I realize that a broken neck at 80 most likely means it's curtain time. I do feel horribly sorry about that. As much as I wish it hadn't happened, it did. It sucks. It really sucks. What would have sucked worse was not taking that ride. Motorcycles are risky contraptions. They are also fun. Real men have fun and take risks. EVEN. IF. IT. KILLS. THEM.
Anything else isn't living, even at 80. Probably especially at 80.