Back-to-back this weekend, there were two celebrations. One to mark the milestone of an 85th birthday, the other to mark the end of a life well lived. Two separate events in the same BPYC clubhouse, attended by many of the same people in our little community.
Ian had just had his 77th birthday when he died in his sleep a few weeks later. His celebration was on the Saturday, and many spoke beautifully of his contributions as a father, husband, professional, wine-shortbread-marmalade-maker, sailor. We raised our glasses and toasted Slangevar with a good single malt.
Dick's party was Sunday. He will have to update his blog from octogenarian to nonagenarian status in a few years. Relatives flew in from across Canada, with three generations able to join the festivities. I liked what Dick said at his party, about the best present he ever received being from his parents. The gift of birth itself.
Past middle-aged, I find inspiration for growing older by having friends that are setting such fine examples.