To the body that’s never let me down
And I should know better
It’s not like I’ve never seen someone’s body betray them. My wife’s ALS started as an almost imperceptible weakening of her right hand. Three years later and she would be immobile in wheelchair. Death came swiftly after that. No amount of exercise or eating right could help her.
Or my father, who worked physically hard his whole life. Only to be struck down by a heart attack at forty eight. Twelve years of disability and dead at sixty. And although he didn’t treat his body particularly well, we all know it was his mind that killed him. Stress, worry, anxiety, all contribute to the aging of systems beyond their years.
And here I am. Yes, I feed you well and exercise you often. But it’s not out of any great respect for you. I do it because I like doing those things and they feed my ability to keep doing them. I also drink too much alcohol. And sit on my ass for far too many hours every day.
I’m fifty three years old and I take for granted the fact that I can still go to the gym three or four days a week. Because I refuse to accept the fact that I’m getting old and won’t be able to do these things too much longer.
I love you. I hope you carry me around for many more years. I promise I’ll try to lay off the booze and be a better steward of the gifts you’ve given me. Without you, I’d be nothing.
You. Complete. Me.
