Dear LPG, 

I wonder if any other ladies of a certain age feel the same about this particular aspect of life. As I’ve grown older, there seem to be fewer parties and fewer excuses to really dress up and go out, so preparing for such an occasion has become very special. Although, on the big night, the party itself can sometimes turn into a noisy, loud anti‑climax to the whole affair. 

I suppose there are some compensations, depending on the size of your family. Mine boasts a lot of older ladies, and there is something very special about all getting together, face‑to‑face, for a good old‑fashioned catch‑up. The last time we all congregated, we found ourselves a quieter corner of the kitchen, away from the loud music and dancing. It was predominantly a group of older matriarchs engaged in a rather diverse discussion. 

All the oldies among us were talking about life as pensioners, and most of us were embracing the experience. But one of my cousins, who is still working and nearing retirement, found herself drawn into our conversation. 

As in most family conversations, our children became the main topic, and we found ourselves trying to work out which of the family’s youngsters were at what stage of childhood. There were a couple of minor discrepancies, but we agreed that when we think of a “young child,” we tend to picture a baby, toddler, or perhaps a child in infant school. If someone mentions an “older child,” our thoughts turn to a seven‑ or eight‑year‑old, with a twelve‑year‑old being firmly in the “older child” bracket. We all agreed that once they reach secondary school, they stop being children and become teenagers. 

We then moved on to talking about adults and where the demarcation lines should be drawn for those aged eighteen to sixty. When most of us were young adults, being forty was considered seriously old, but things are different now. We agreed that the general rule of thumb these days is that each milestone birthday becomes the “new” previous one. Even with that rule in place, there were at least three new seventy‑year‑olds leading the discussion, with a couple of new sixty‑year‑olds involved too. 

My younger cousin was lamenting the fact that she would soon be leaving work forever, and when she said it, the tone of our happy, chatty discussion became a little more sombre. It was sad to hear her talk about feeling really old. That was when the rest of us had the opportunity to remind her that while she may feel old at work, there are also stages of pensioner‑hood—and she would soon be one of the really young ones. We spent some time reassuring her that being a pensioner is not so bad, and the conversation continued from there. 

The sad part is that none of us realised, until we saw her reaction and read between the lines of her comments, just how badly the whole thing was affecting her. Surprisingly, she wasn’t troubled by health or financial concerns. What she shared made us aware of her real worries: losing her work friends, having nothing to do every day, and the fear of impending loneliness. 

We all felt her fear, and the rest of that night’s chat reminded me that there must be other pre‑pensioners feeling the same way. It has to be our job—as the established oldies—to explore the territory, have the conversation, and remind them that there is life after retirement, and that being a young pensioner can be exactly what’s needed to put things into perspective. 

I can’t quite remember myself at that stage of life, but it occurs to me that we older pensioners need to do a little digging when chatting with our younger relatives who are approaching retirement, just to make sure they’re not feeling that way and hiding it well. We have the advantage of having been there, done it, and bought the tee‑shirt—and we need to spread the encouragement. 


OM, Ladywell  

 

 

LPG found a few bits of internet information that might help you to help an anxious pre-pensioner allay their fears…  

 

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