Tears of old (R)age

We’ve been friends with an older couple for nigh on 4 years.
They’ve been boating since the 70’s in one of the original fibreglass river cruisers.
It’s a sweet little craft to, 27 feet, lovely old school outboard that still purrs like new.
Such is the love and care they gave to the upkeep of their little boat.
The owner does it all, around 80, struggles with everything, but the love is still there.

Only as old age has crept up on them, mobility issues and bad health have taken their toll and with regret laced with a lot of tears, they’ve had to give up boating.

To say they are heart broken is downstating the emotion.
As said we have been friends, when he couldn’t get to his boat I’ve been maintaining it.
Sort of things friends do, help out when others need.

Anyway decision taken, the chimp of the marina salesman wasn’t really interested in the boat and to put it mildly, pissed off our old friend greatly. So it came as no surprise the next day that he said he wanted to just give it away to a good home.

And that’s what has happened.
There is a charity called The Marine Volunteer Service.
A good hearted, boat loving, generous group of guys and girls.
Thus the little boat is going to a good home.

Yet that’s not the end.
Now we have an elderly couple who have lost their 50 year old love affair with all things boats. Both are gutted.

Old age is a bitch but especially so when the mind is still willing but the body says no.
That makes it hurt even more acute.

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3 Responses to Tears of old (R)age

  1. DM says:

    My dad had to make a similar choice this year with his farming…He will be 84 this June, and decided it was getting unsafe to continue to operate those big pieces of equipment..so he rented out the ground to a neighbor…he was 1 year shy of 50 years farming…His mind is still sharp/ heck he is still better @ math than I am 😉 Those are tough life choices. I can’t wait (not) DM

  2. jlm990 says:

    Besides my Frau, the love of my life is my military gun collection. I dread the day I am too old and feeble to go to the range. But at least I will have them to fondle, clean, and remember when they were well tuned and kept killing machines in my hands. And I can pass them on to my son. They will be killing machines in his hands. All of us will reach the stage where we can no longer be who we truly are but are still breathing. But hopefully we can pass on what we have to those who come after. A part of us to continue on.

    • Amen to that.
      Only there is no-one for us to pass on our knowledge.

      Thus I always have written:-
      I will leave no mark of my passing, no marker for me by request, just hopefully a fond memory of me being.

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