Three Score Years and Ten

Three Score Years and Ten

Three score years and ten; the bibles ripe old age, and a belief I’d held for years. It was an archaic view that when one reaches the good books’ 70 youthful years, he or she could safely claim a life that had been pursued to the full. My three score years and ten went by too quickly. It seemed to go by in, (dare I use such a cliché), a flash as it were. Memories from the past collided with yesterday’s recollections, proving that everything does appear to have happened just yesterday. However, my lapses in distinguishing between time and place can be put down to the greatest excuse ever created… it’s because I’m getting old. The effect of this phrase merely strengthens with age, becoming a greater phantom to which the blame of every fault or slip up in social decorum could be placed upon. Even if I was to slightly overuse this ancient excuse, I would feel no regret or indeed no sympathy of any kind, as I have earned this haunting ghost; suffering 70 years upon a world that throws you so many turns and surprises, gives me that right and privilege.

Suffering 70 years alone in such a world would have been a punishment that no man should endure. I was lucky to have had a love that kept me strong, and able to tackle anything that a life could throw me. I met her in 1950, at a dance school. I was 20 years old, fresh from the national service that has so conveniently left this obese youth of today. We soon got married and had three beautiful kids, which was the biggest achievement of my life. I had such an ego… the breadwinner, the provider, and many other selfish phrases that gave credit to no one but me. I didn’t even realise how important my family were until they were gone; didn’t realise how important my wife was, until I drove her away.

Gambling is a regret I will take with me to the grave, so to speak. It broke my family up and ruined a life that could have been so simple. It becomes clearer as the years shed light on mistakes that could have been avoided. I made my life more complicated than it should have been, putting obstacles between myself and the ones that I held dearest to me.

One of the pleasures of living for 30 years short of a century is that you hear many a turn of phrase; ‘Life’s too short’, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’ (I found that one out the hard way), and most important of all, ‘You’ll find you don’t appreciate something, until its not there anymore’. Sure, my life is still here, but the ability to live it had been stolen from me; taken away by a 6 letter culprit that was once just a word…cancer.