I must have been 8 or 9 years old when I discovered that my mother had just turned 40. I stared at her cutting her birthday cake with my father and I wanted to burst into tears. She was smiling and happy. We were all happy. But to me 40 was such a big number. A number that felt ions away and in my childlike mind, my mother didn’t have much longer to live. And so, 40 became for me the big bad age.

When I turned 40, in the peak of health, with a young family like my mother had been some years prior, I felt dread. For no other reason than what my mind had recorded so long ago. I didn’t want to receive any birthday greetings so I escaped with my small family where no-one could reach me, just for the day. Since then, though, I’ve realised that age is just a number. Your health, your happiness, your family are a few of the most important things in life. And now that I am in my sixties and the real big numbers are staring me in the face, I dig deep into my memories for what those ages could possibly mean.

My mother breathed her last breath just a few months past the age of 70. She had been ailing since her early sixties. My father heroically took on the role of caregiver like no other. And even with her family rallying around her, her quality of life began to fade towards her late sixties. She had lost her speech. I can only imagine that she felt trapped no longer being able to communicate as she had wished. And yet, even with this memory, the dread that I felt at 40 no longer haunts me. It has now been replaced with a sense of newness of life. For in my own experience, there’s still time for adventure. There’s still time to learn new things. There’s still time to love – your family, your friends, yourself.

A few weeks ago, my sister turned 70. We had been joking about it for some time, reminiscing on our experiences and wondering what this new stage would bring for her. The day after we celebrated her, she messaged me – it’s not so bad after all – she said. I smiled a big smile. For my sister has now become my new beacon of what 70 looks like.

And what does 70 look like? It is at peace with oneself. It is accepting of what life has to offer. It is grateful for every moment, every day. It is quirky and has a sense of humour. Ready to go new places and experience new things. Its arms are wide open welcoming love and adventure. It is wise. It is kind. It is generous of heart and spirit.

Thanks to my sister, I look forward to 70, hoping that I too will find that it’s not so bad after all.