I write a lot about how enjoyable this stage of life can be. And it often is! But if and when you reach a certain stage in life . . . well, there’s an uptick in the pace of losing people you love. And that can be hard to deal with at times – especially around the holidays.
I’ve reached an incredible stage of my life. I have so much more freedom than I had during the many decades I was working! I’m truly grateful for that, and the family and friends still present in my life, and my pretty good if imperfect health, and my ability to still do many things even though, yes, the years have slowed me a bit.
However, I can’t just ignore the flip side.
By the time we get to our mid to late 60s, a lot of us have lost at least one parent, other loved ones in our parents’ generation, and more than one of our peers. And there’s no getting around it: Those losses start adding up.
During a terrible 15-month stretch while I was still in my mid-50s, I lost my mother, one of my closest friends who was just 60, and my father. I spent much of that time and the following months in a fog of grief.
Eventually, I emerged. Mostly. But each loss leaves a scar. Or, as another dear friend who passed away two years ago told me at the time, a hole in our hearts. We go on, but we’re changed. And despite the increased experience in dealing with loss, each loss hits differently. And if it was someone close, it’s always hard.
I lost two good friends in the last couple of months, both unexpectedly, and it’s been rough. One was after a car crash on a local road, where the other driver was at fault. Brian was 73. We’d been friends since our 30s.
The other was after what is usually serious but routine surgery. Lucas seemed to get through it fine, returned home from the hospital, and appeared to be recovering well. But then he died several days later. He was in his early 60s.
We’d worked together for two decades, Lucas and I, and remained friends after I retired.
He never got to retire.
I think of their loved ones as Thanksgiving approaches, the first holiday without a spouse or a parent or a sibling.
And I think about the ghosts surrounding my own celebration. Parents and grandparents. Aunts, uncles, and cousins. A sister-in-law. And friends who might not have been at our Thanksgiving table, but were there for many other important milestones. Friends who still felt like family in a lot of ways that matter.
How do we balance gratitude for the many things still to be thankful for, with the mounting losses of our years?
I went to a grief counselor after the deaths of my parents and dear friend years ago. I’m plodding along mostly on my own now so far. . . . But since it’s 2025, I could - don’t shame me! - see what an AI chatbot trained on much of humanity’s accumulated wisdom (at least that was scrape-able online) might have to say.
“I think what you’re describing - the ghosts around the table - is something a lot of people feel but don’t always name,” Claude.ai responded. “The awareness of who’s missing, especially during holidays that are supposed to be about gathering.
“Your grandmother’s laugh, your father’s opinions, your mother’s way of doing things, those friends you could talk to about shared memories that no one else has. Those specific presences are gone, and younger people, no matter how much you love them, bring different things.
“There’s something about parent and grandparent relationships too - they knew you when you were someone else. They held your history. And friends you’ve had for decades, they’ve been witnesses to your whole adult life. When those people die, it’s not just losing them - it’s losing the people who knew certain versions of you, who remember things no one else remembers. . . .
“Reaching your 60s means you’ve accumulated a lot of life - relationships, experiences, memories. And that means you’ve also had time to accumulate losses. It’s one of the harder trades of a long life. You gain depth, perspective, wisdom, but you also necessarily lose people you love. . . .
“It sounds like you’re not trying to push away the gratitude or the grief - you’re just trying to hold both, which is maybe all anyone can do.”
I’ve gotten worse advice.
Wishing everyone who observes, a wonderful Thanksgiving. And I hope that all of you still feel that you have much to be thankful for.
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