Giving thanks: It really is about choice

I was thankfully reminded last night while having dinner with my aunt and uncle that it's not just genetics that influence how we age.

My uncle, my mom's brother, turned 79 last month, and he looks pretty good. He's still spry, square dances twice a week, and does most of the repairs on his home and rental property. He's aging, clearly, and slowing down; he's had a few health challenges, but nothing that's threatened his mortality or that requires intense management (that I'm aware of). I have long said lifestyle trumps genetics, and I'm taking this as proof that my maternal ancestry doesn't necessarily doom me to a shorter life.

I've had far too many relatives leave the mortal coil at too young an age. My cousin Terri, whose birthday would have been Monday, was just 54 when she died from lung cancer. Cousin Sherri was 52. Their paternal aunt lived into her 90s, though, so I take this as yet another example of lifestyle over genetics.

Other relatives also succumbed to lifestyle-based illness: my mom at 64, her sisters at 60 and 48. Two great aunts in my maternal blood line lived the longest - Alma to 88, her youngest sister, Vernis, to 78. They didn't smoke, among other things. And my mom's maternal cousin, bless her, is well into her 90s and living fully and vivaciously. Whew! But these are just three exceptions on my mom's side.

On the paternal side, I've mentioned that my uncle is now into his 80s, and until recently, competed in weight lifting competitions around the world. I like those genetics!

When I think about genetics, I get scared I'll die a premature death, before I've fully lived the dreams I've envisioned. After all, mom - just 64; my dad - just 28, and on and on. That fear and the realities of managing an illness, as so many in my family must do, are primary motivators for choosing differently. Sometimes I fear there will be a penance for my early years of excess. But my naturopath says if I'd done real damage, I'd likely know by now. Thank goodness for teenage resilience! When I see pictures of my younger self, cigarette in one hand, drink in another, I barely recognize myself and it feels like someone else's life. In a way, it was.

When this fear shows up, I aim first to forgive myself for those early years - not always easy... and trust I haven't yet activated anything undesirable, and remember that genetics aren't the be all, end all. And then I get this body moving. Evidence continues to support how much our diets and activities impact our overall health - even Alzheimer's is proving to be largely diet related. This gives me hope, as that's something I can manage, and that's a disease that's rampant, along with diabetes and heart disease, throughout my family. Research shows that even making small changes can make a big difference if you're not already doing those things that lead to optimal health.

So as I regularly chant, I'm thankful today and every day that lifestyle can, indeed, trump genetics. I can't slack off much. I'm committed to my own health and well-being, despite the challenges. I read today there's actually scientific proof that being thankful improves health, too. That's an easy one!

I hope you, too, have much to be thankful for, today, tomorrow and every day.

It comes in threes...

"Stuff comes in threes." How many times have I heard that?

While it can be applied to anything, the idea or belief that things happen in triplicate is usually applied to things that are weird, unusual, or just plan unpleasant. Maybe we notice the 'threes' because we pay more attention when bad things happen, and we're ready for them to stop at a certain point. Good things could just keep happening.

I'm not sure I buy it, but right now it's ringing true.

• I attended my aunt's memorial in Los Angeles this weekend; she left the mortal coil about a month ago after living with Alzheimer's, such as living with this disease is, for about five years. I didn't know her well. She didn't want to know me as a child; as an adult, long after my dad died, she welcomed me back into her life and helped me learn about their family - the paternal side that I knew less than a paragraph about growing up. I'm grateful for that opportunity, and her willingness to at last see from a different lense.
• My 98-year-old neighbor, a pillar in my world, a woman who knew me my entire life, my mom as a teenager, my grandparents, and so many more, left us on Friday. She was my evidence that we don't have to leave this world prematurely, as so many in my own family have. Although she's been ready to go for a while, until recently, she maintained her health and independence. But over the last two years or so, her quality of life deteriorated. She couldn't spend time in her garden, and she finally gave up driving. It's difficult to comprehend that she's no longer just across the street, keeping an eye on the neighborhood, or telling stories of former neighbors, friends and events.
• A woman I've known nearly all my life - we were kids together - was diagnosed with cancer just three weeks ago. Not quite two weeks ago, she had surgery to remove the tumors in her throat. She was going in for more tests this week, but on Monday night, something was very wrong so she called 911. By the time the medics came, she had to be revived, and now she's in the hospital, unconscious. While the human spirit is capable of much and she has two young boys she loved beyond anything, it doesn't look like she's going to recover. She's 49.

None of these are really "about me." But I am deeply sad and feel very affected. Mortality is an interesting thing. We don't know how long we're here. So many leave us before it seems they should - my mom at 64, my dad at 28, my aunts at 48 and 60, grandparents at 68 and 70, cousins at 18, 52, and 54, and countless friends and acquaintances gone at a young age. Yet one could argue that we all have our time - fate, destiny, whatever you might call it (Forrest says, "If you're meant to be drown, you won't be hanged").

Or as one friend says, there are lessons for those of us left behind.

If I could, would I want to know what the future really holds? Probably not. I think it would be hard to understand those lessons and see the gifts or silver linings without truly experiencing them. Currently, lessons coming to mind are:

• not leaving anything left unsaid (especially to those we care about),
• asking myself what's really important,
• planning for the future while living for today - at least covering the bases in whatever way possible for the unpredictable and unknown (perhaps a last gift for those we leave).

But I'm hoping this is it for a while. Three feels like plenty right now because in some ways, these are markers of time... and each of these women were significant in my life for different reasons. They were all part of my history.

For today, I am grateful and happy with where I am in my life. I am healthy, happy, gainfully employed working with good people, with a man I love and adore, and have a home in a location that's hard to beat. And I have exciting plans for my future that I intend to fulfill.

Onward, yes? There's a lot of life yet to be lived, and I don't want to waste a minute.