Elderly fortitude

At lunch today, an elderly man occupied the table next to mine. He dined in the company of his portable oxygen tank.
I’ve seen him around before, ambling along the sidewalk with his tank in tow. Narrow plastic tubes pass under his nose allowing easier breathing. His hands are bloated and unwieldy. Maybe he suffers from emphysema. He’s sometimes accompanied by a woman I assume is his daughter and a little boy that must be his grandson. Today he was on his own.
After finishing the tuna-tomato pasta (we ordered the same thing), he had a cup of coffee. He fumbled with the tiny tab on the container of “coffee white” for a moment or two before using his teeth to hold it while his hand pulled the packaging open. Then he struggled with his medications–five blister-packed pills–and with some effort managed to push them open.
It’s a bitch getting older. Nobody escapes the inevitable physical decline and we can’t predict how gracefully we’ll age. But this old man was out there living life. He’s slowed down, but hasn’t stopped. I hope I can say the same thing in 30 years.
Yesterday was “Respect for the Aged” day. 19% of Japan’s population is over 65.