The Thief In the Night.

No longer shall there be in it an infant who lives but a few days, nor anyone who does not live a full lifetime; One who dies at a hundred years shall be considered a youth, and one who falls short of a hundred shall be thought accursed.

Isaiah, Chapter 65

Clive Law was a predominant figure in memorializing Canadian military history in recent years, something that Canadians have tended to seemingly be happy to forget.  He was 63 years of age when he died this past June.  I wasn't aware of that until I read the current issue of the Journal of the Company of Military Historians, which just arrived.

The son of an English father and an Scots-Irish mother, Law had served in the Governor General's Foot Guards and the RCMP.  In his 50s he deployed to Haiti as a civilian representative in the RCMP and he was known for his dedication to philanthropist causes.   He was also the author of twelve books and many other written works.

I didn't know him, but I did have some occasional correspondence with him at one time.  That's quite awhile back and it was interestingly before he became such a major figure with the Company of Military Historians, of which I'm a member and with which he has been, as noted, a central figure in recent years.

I'm somewhat noting his passing for another reason, however, and its been one on my mind recently.  

I'm 54 years of age.  My father's father died in his late 40s.  My father died at 62.  Law died of an apparent massive stroke, totally unforeseen, at age 63. There's really no telling when a person will pass and that's particularly the case for men.

I note this as I find myself, now at this age, meeting quite a few people who have plans for their future retirements, which they are placing on hold in anticipation of making a few more bucks.  Men who work until their 70s with this hope.  Added to that are men and women who have simply become so acclimated to working that they know nothing else and keep doing it.  If a person loves their work so much they want to keep on keeping on, no matter what, so be it.  But at the same time, the common American idea that a person is going to live into their 90s, with perfect health, and clear mind is, well, based more on hope than reality.  You may well live that long indeed, but your mind may be clouded and your health wrecked.  Or you may not live anywhere near that long.

There's a lesson in there, and I'm not necessarily saying that Clive's example is purely applicable.  But in a way all of the early deaths noted above are.  Death comes, when it comes.  Planning on scheduling it late in life, well, you'll either win the genetic lottery, and avoid accidents, or not. 

In my own case, on that genetic lottery, so far I seem to have inherited more strongly from my mother's family in regards to that than my father's, although my father's siblings are, as I write this, all still living (this will very shortly cease to be the case).  My mother's family lives seemingly forever, it seems. But as part of that, they're lucky if they live into long life with clear mind.  My mother was incredibly active up to about age 90, which skewed my view of what old life must be like.  But her last few years were really miserable as her mind closed in on her, a scary thing to watch.  I hope to avoid that, but then frankly, I figure I'll be lucky to get past my six decade at all, for reason that I can't really explain.  Something for me to consider.

In a rather grim mood, obviously, this morning.