The Gift Of Age – P.S. I Love You


Thoughts on birthdays.

Megan Minutillo
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

We all get older.

It’s not something that we can pause, and it’s not something we can avoid, it’s not something that we can stop — although we most certainly do try.

Did you know that the global anti-aging market is expected to exceed more than US$ 271.0 Billion by 2024?


That’s quite a lot of money.

That’s quite a lot of products and services dedicated to preserving our youth and the marks that come with growing older.

Last week, I turned 34 years old.

Two weeks ago, my grandfather passed away, and he was 94 years old. A constant reminder throughout his funeral services was that he was a man who lived a full life — a life of love, and laughter, filled with friends and family who celebrated him until his very last days.

He never took his days for granted, and he never let his age stop him from doing the things he wanted to do, either.

There’s a correlation here, I promise, and it’s that the older I get, the more I realize how important it is for us to celebrate each year that we have on this earth.

The older I get, the more I realize how lucky we are to have another trip around the sun.

We’re taught never to ask a lady her age. We’re taught to try and cover our grey hairs and smooth out our wrinkles, and look for products that make us look younger.

But age is a gift.

Each wrinkle is a memory, etched into your being. Those wrinkles are reminders of times of great worry, of concern, and sadness. They’re proof that we also got to the other side of that pain, too. They’re souvenirs from childhood when you were young and careless and stood in the sun for far too long without any sunscreen. They’re the marks that come from fits of laughter, of times you smiled so wide you thought your face was going to burst and delighted in the sounds of giggles with the ones you love.

Each grey hair is stubborn. Grey hairs are coarse, wiry, and persistent. And while I have no qualms about dying one’s hair — those little stubborn hairs are a reminder that you too are persistent. And you’re still here.

You’re still here — and that is something to celebrate, and delight in, and shout from the rooftops.

Do not hesitate when someone asks you your age — declare it loudly and proudly.

Each year is a gift.

Each day is something to treasure.

Fear not about getting older — celebrate the days that you have had, and look forward to all the days you have had to come.

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