There was a song of my youth that included the line, “Will you still need me, will you still love me, when I’m 65?” Okay, so the age was 64 in this song. But hey, I’m officially old and I’m a writer so I can make up stuff. When I was younger and heard songs about love and aging, I thought I would never be that old.

So here I am at 65. Who’d of thunk it? This year I enter the federal maze known as Medicare. Next year, I start drawing Social Security. Maybe I’ll be able to afford a car with a working air conditioner. I’ll still work, cuz I can’t imagine myself just sitting around, doing nothing.

I’ve been roaming this planet for six and a half decades now, and I wonder where the time has gone. I’m relatively healthy. And I feel as good as my hip allows. But I get all the senior discounts at stores without being carded, so I must look like a senior. Funny, it feels more like middle age to me. I come from genetic stock that includes a long life, so I figure I have a couple more good decades left.

It’s a time of reflection for me; about the wonderful times and the awful times, about the good and bad decisions I have made in my life, about the people in my life who are no longer here and about where I am now and the direction I will go in the near future.

In the 60s, when I was in my 20s, I finished my education, was drafted into the military and got married. A lot of changes went on in that decade and ended with my wife carrying our first child.

In my 30s, I started a family and added a second child, bought my first house and built my career as a journalist.

The 80s brought tumultuous changes. We had a third child and I stayed home with her as a Mr. Mom, long before the movie. I had an opportunity to work for myself, and took it, making more money than working for other people. It was the decade of my divorce, and, in my 40s, of falling in love again.

The 90s began tragically with the death of my girlfriend’s child. His dying process ended our relationship and not only broke my heart, but also my spirit. So I returned to my mother’s house in Norfolk, a quivering emotional mess. I thought I would need about six months of walking the beach and sorting out my emotions, then return to the Midwest. That was 15 years ago.

In my 50s, I worked restaurants and learned it was hard work, but I was enjoying life again. That career ended when my hip fell off and for a year after the surgery, I did not work. The Senior Services job program placed me at something called the Dispute Settlement Center. One of the first questions I asked was, “Mediation? What’s that?” And look at me now. As a mediator and a parent educator, I offer help to those going through a painful period of their lives.

Today, when I stand before the Saturday morning parenting class I see the pain, anger and frustration in the faces of these parents. When they ask if things will get better, my answer is “Been there. Done that. Trust me, you will recover, but it will take time and hard work.” Many probably don’t believe me, but if they let go of the past, the future will get better.

Those classes have brought me some wonderful moments, and some sad ones. One year, a participant sent me a Christmas card, noting that she had a lot of fun in the parenting class. You’re not supposed to have fun in the parenting class, but I try to make it as informal as possible and use humor to illustrate certain points. I will never forget the pain expressed on a young parent’s face. He was ordered into the class after filing a motion to amend his child support because his son had died. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to. His expression and body language said it all.

I prefer mediating Family cases to ones involving General District Court. The Family cases can be a lot more emotionally complex and at times I want to tell the parents that this is not about them; it’s about their children. I also understand the upheaval they and their children are experiencing and I know it is a very difficult time for everyone, but especially the children. As a mediator, I am neutral, but I can still be an advocate for children by nudging the discussion toward what’s best for them.

So my life experiences come into play in subtle ways. I don’t always realize it until later, when I’m reflecting on a case or a parenting class or even remembering some event in my past and relating it to what I’m doing now.

Nearly six years ago, I did not know what mediation was. And now I am a mediator. Life takes odd twists.

-Chuck Hardwick