Turning 62: Some Things I Know for Sure and What I’m Still Learning

I just turned 62. Even though this isn't considered a milestone birthday, I found it still made me stop and think about my life - where I've been, what I've learned, and what remains uncertain.

At my age, I would have expected to have more answers than questions. But the truth is, the older I get, the more I realize that wisdom isn't about having everything figured out. It's about knowing what you know, being comfortable with what you don't and willing to still ask questions and learn.

But over the course of my life, there are a few things that I'm certain about and still quite a few things that keeps me wondering.

What I Know For Sure

Life is unpredictable, and no one is exempt.

I thought I understood this intellectually. But over the past five years, from my husband's sudden brush with death, losing our first grandson and my father suddenly dying of a heart attack I gained a totally different perspective. These weren't abstract concepts about life's fragility - they were devastating lessons that life doesn't care about your plans, your health, or your age. Our lives can literally change in an instant, and the only certainty in life is that we have no certainty.

Great joy is often found in the smallest things.

I've also discovered joy isn't found in collecting more stuff or single large moments in time. It's often found in the small things. Babysitting my twin grandchildren and getting to see life be enjoyed for the first time again through their eyes - that's joy. Going for a walk in the forest and appreciating the beauty of nature - that's joy. These aren't necessarily what would be considered bucket worthy moments or major accomplishments. They're the ordinary experiences that fill spaces in ways that achievement and recognition don't. I've learned to pay attention to these small gifts, because they are in fact actually the big ones.

Happiness may be fleeting but contentment is continuous.

I think we spend so much time chasing happiness - whether it's our next goal, our next experience or our next milestone often believeing we will be happy once we achieve it. But I now view happiness as a temporary emotion that can pass. This is why I believe contentment is my real goal.

Contentment means being appreciative and satisfied with your life in the present moment.

Now I'm not suggesting that this should be confused with just settling for our situation in life if it's not what we want. It's still striving and learning for the things that bring us fulfillment. But I see contentment as appreciating my current situation while working toward what might bring me happiness. It's the difference between constantly needing that happiness high and instead appreciating and being happy with what I already have.

Treating people with care and kindness is never a waste of time.

Treating others with care and kindness is so important and can make a major difference in someone's life. For example, after my husband's brain injury, his best friend started calling him every morning just to check in. They would chat, catch up on how his therapy was going, discuss the latest game or whatever. This daily call turned out to be a critical component of my husband's rehabilitation and gave him something to hold onto while he was finding his way forward. The beauty is that they still talk every morning to this day.

This is such an inspiring example of how taking the time to care for someone else can make a major difference in their life. In the end, care and kindness are how people will remember us. As Maya Angelou said, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.".

That's our legacy - not our accomplishments or possessions, but how we made people feel.

Purpose matters more than ever.

Having a reason to keep moving forward is the fuel that keeps us going. It's the reason we get out of bed in the morning. I've always been driven, but I've noticed over the years that the motivation behind my drive has shifted. It's no longer about climbing ladders or proving myself. It's more focused on a purpose of why I believe I'm still alive on this planet. Purpose gives shape to our days and meaning to our time. Without it, we're just marking time until we reach the end.

Relationships are continually shifting, and that's okay if your values are aligned.

I've been married for over 32 years, and like most relationships, we have had our ups and downs. But what I've discovered over this time is that as long as our values stayed aligned, there was nothing we couldn't work through. We could have different perspectives, we could have different opinions but if we shared the same values we always seemed to manage to find a way through.

We can't control what others do, only how we respond.

Time and time again, I've wanted people to react or respond in a certain way. But I've learned that we can want people to behave in a certain way all we want, but we can't control this. They will do what they want to do. What we do have control of is how we choose to respond.

This applies to everything - from family dynamics to friendships to watching people make choices we wouldn't make. Letting go of the need to control and judge others' behavior has probably been one of the hardest but also the most liberating lessons of my life.

Death is inevitable, so don't waste your time on what doesn't matter.

When I was younger, I never saw my life ending. I thought I had an endless amount of time. But over the past five years, I have lost so many people that I care about that it's left me with a totally different perspective.

The lesson is unavoidable: none of us get out of here alive.

Death is the finish line that none of us necessarily know where it is. This recognition has become pivotal in how I now live. I try to fill my time with the things that are important. I try and not carry around the small stuff realizing that in the end, it doesn't really matter. The petty arguments, the grudges, the hurt feelings over minor slights - none of it really matters in the end.

What I Still Don't Know

How do we mend so much global discord.

I don't know if I'm just more sensitive these days but the world just seems so out of synch right now. We seem to be so polarized in our own echo chambers of what we want to believe without any opportunity for discussion or debate. It's become so disturbing for me that I now limit the amount of news I watch. But this causes me worry for the next generations. Will they inherit a world that's more divided, more hostile, more broken than the one we grew up in? This I don't know.

What anyone else's life will be truly like.

For all my certainty about letting go of control, I still struggle with not knowing how the lives of the people I love and care about will be. Will my children navigate their challenges successfully? Will my grandchildren grow up safe and healthy? Will the people I care about make decisions that serve them well? I can't predict any of it, and accepting that uncertainty still remains uncomfortable.

How my life will end.

I think about this more now than I did at 40 or 50. Not morbidly, but realistically. I may have another 30 years, or I may just have today. I don't know which, and I can't control it. What I can control is making whatever time I have left matter. But the not knowing - when, how, whether I'll see my grandchildren grow up, whether I'll have time to do everything I want to do - that uncertainty sits with me constantly now.

The Space Between Knowing and Not Knowing

At 62, I'm learning to live in the space between certainty and uncertainty. To hold firmly to what I know while remaining open to all I don't. To make peace with the questions that may I may never have answers to.

Maybe that's what 62 teaches you: that wisdom isn't about having all the answers. It's about knowing what matters, acting on that knowledge while you can, and accepting that the rest is beyond your control.

I may not know everything, but I this I do: I want to make whatever time I have left count. Not by accomplishing more or achieving more, but by loving more, being present more, and letting go of what doesn't matter.

And that feels like an excellent birthday present to give myself.