When I married a man 12 years older than me, I assumed he would be passing first, and I learned to live with that. I wasn't too surprised that most of our friends turned out to be older than me. Indeed, I was always the baby.
We moved into a neighborhood of mostly elderly people, and I became accustomed to lots of parental advice and counsel. It was good. I needed that counsel. Our ward (church congregation) was made up of elderly folks too. Again, I was the baby with lots of loving arms to pull me up when I was drowning -- and it was good.
Many years have passed, and the demographics are changing. One by one, my friends are moving on to greener pastures.
We attended the funeral this morning for the last of our "parental" neighbors. We didn't go to the cemetery, as I told my husband I needed to go to a "happy" place. Happy to my husband means food, so we ended up at the closest fast food restaurant. We had only been sitting for a moment when a friend came in and stopped by our table to chat. I told her we had just been to a funeral and needed a "happy" place. She said she needed a "happy" place too, since she had just learned that a mutual friend was now in hospice care. So much for happy.
While it really helps for me to know the plan of salvation, it is sometimes a little depressing to watch your friends dropping like flies. I knew when I married Danny that there was a good chance I would outlive him, but I hadn't counted on outliving all my friends, as well. The last couple of years, we've lost some very dear friends. I'm either going to have to hunt for some younger friends, or I'm going to be an awfully lonely old lady. Then again, my family line dies out pretty young. I've already outlived a younger cousin. This could be my excuse for eating chocolate, drinking soda, and not exercising. Dying young may not be such a bad thing. Enduring to the end may be fine--unless you're alone.