As we age, we tend to "hang on"---to memories, wealth, relationships, certain family members or friends. We stop risking and forging new experiences. We cherish our beliefs, e.g., "My country right or wrong, in war", "I am not gay, so gay marriage is not right", "Young people were not raised the way I was so we have a "lost generation" paying---if they work at all---for my social security". Meanwhile, societal mores are changing all around us.
We fall down the rabbit hole, like Alice in Wonderland, as our aging senses dull. We no longer see as well (thank goodness for Ben Franklin's invention of reading glasses and thanks, Walgreens, for making them so fashionable), no longer hear as well (can I borrow the ear phones at the movie?), or chew as well (chopped hamburger instead of sirloin steak, anyone?). Don't even talk about the sense of touch as wrinkles and sagging skin set in...
I am proud of my aging mother. We celebrated her ninetieth birthday in Omaha, NE, recently. Instead of "hanging on" and becoming more set in her ways and opinions, she is "letting go". She has made or honored lists of what goes to whom.
She insisted that I now take the antique Rose-ville Pottery urn and pedestal. It was Grandma Anna's fern-stand on the farm. Mom had a more "modern" plant, a philodendron, in it. It sat for years in her "computer room".
I carefully wrapped the two pieces in bubble wrap, covered them with "packing peanuts", and double boxed them for the 500 mile journey to my home. Once here, I planted a "false orchid" and variegated philodendron in it. The pedestal urn now sits in an honored corner of my living room, proud testimonial to my mother "letting go".