Dad’s face in the mirror and Mom’s voice in my head

I sat down with five of my cousins the other day, and somehow the conversation turned to the inevitable path of our genetics and aging.

This is apparently what happens when we reach a certain age. When we were 12, we talked about bikes, movies and who could jump farthest off the haystack. Now we compare cholesterol numbers, aching knees, mental health and which body part has recently begun making an unexplained noise.

We talked about the dementia and heart issues lurking in our family tree, and how prostate cancer seems almost inevitable for those of us who came equipped with those particular parts. As we talked about our individual experiences with aging, I found myself thankful that, now into my seventh decade, I have the kind of relationships where we can sit together, laugh a little and talk honestly about the hard things.

Of course, I don’t need my cousins to remind me that I’m getting older. Every morning I look in the mirror and see a little more of my dad looking back at me.

I used to wonder what I would look like when I got old.

Mystery solved.

The funny thing is that while Dad’s face seems to be showing up in my mirror, Mom’s voice has taken up residence in my head.

And after all the books, podcasts, medical studies and miracle discoveries about how to live a longer, healthier life, much of the advice sounds suspiciously like the stuff our mothers told us 50 years ago.

“Eat your fruits and vegetables.”

“Get outside and exercise.”

“Use your brain.”

“Read a book.”

“Spend more time with people you love.”

“Find time for faith, gratitude and reflection.”

“Try to be a little better today than you were yesterday.”

And, as my mother used to jokingly remind me, “Eat every carrot and pea on your plate.”

Apparently, Mom was on the cutting edge of longevity research.

Exercise doesn’t have to mean running a marathon. At my age, some mornings a brisk walk feels sufficiently Olympic. Maybe exercising my brain means reading instead of staring at my phone. Maybe staying healthy means eating an apple occasionally instead of merely admiring the one in the refrigerator until it goes bad.

None of those things guarantees us anything.

Age is coming whether we cooperate or not. There will be aches and pains. Our bodies will slow down. Genetics will eventually deal us a hand we’d rather not play.

But getting older isn’t the same thing as giving up.

We can move. We can learn. We can read. We can laugh. We can nurture friendships, strengthen our families and stay connected spiritually. We can eat a little better and try to improve a little each day.

What stays with me from that conversation, though, is that after all these years my cousins and I are still sitting around the table, laughing and talking honestly about the hard things. Maybe that’s another secret to growing older: hold onto the people who know where you came from and keep showing up for each other.

Maybe the great secret to aging gracefully isn’t really a secret at all.

I’m beginning to look more like my father every day.

Fortunately, I can still hear my mother telling me what to do about it.