Minimalism for Seniors – A Personal Story

By Dr Nihal D Amerasekera

Minimalism is all about living with less. Moving to live in a smaller space is euphemistically called downsizing. It has become a trend worldwide for people to downsize after retirement. Many of my friends and family in Sri Lanka have come to realise its benefits. There is a wide choice available ranging from independent apartments to warden-controlled retirement homes and nursing homes.

Many of us will live longer than our parents. The benefits of long life are many but there is a downside which needs careful management to improve the quality of life in later years. There is the inevitable and gradual decline in health and energy as the years pass. This leads to the inability to do the things we have always done. With careful planning and some good fortune we all can minimise the inconvenience. In old age, dementia is on the increase when happiness and life gradually fade away. We have made enormous strides in postponing death and lengthening those twilight years. These are years to be enjoyed. It is true the government should create a team to look after the interests of the elderly. In the UK much has been done with free transport, healthcare, TV licence and support to cover the ever-increasing energy bills in winter. Meanwhile there are many things we can do for ourselves to make our senior years happy, healthy and manageable.

If one can afford it, moving to an apartment with easy access is more than a luxury.

It is often said moving house is as traumatic as a divorce. I wouldn’t disagree. This is doubly so if one is 70+. We moved into our present house 33 years ago from busy London. As I recall the day with such great clarity, this seems just like yesterday. It was a warm sunny autumn afternoon with hardly a breeze. A couple of chirping robin redbreasts perched in a window sill welcomed us to our new home.

The year 1982 was a momentous one. Ronald Reagan was the president of the USA and Margaret Thatcher, the British Prime Minister. The Falklands war was raging in the South Atlantic. On a lighter note Italy won the Football World Cup. I had started work as a Radiologist in a hospital 50 miles north of London. The hard grind of training and exams were over. With a stable job and a happy family it seemed like the beginning of paradise.

We moved into a brand-new house and were its first occupants. I created a little "Walawwa" in a leafy suburb in rural Hertfordshire, far from the madding crowd as I could manage. We converted the backyard from a muddy patch of overgrown weeds into a wonderful garden with a fine lawn and elegant flowerbeds that were in bloom all year round. I have spent many long summer evenings seated in the garden sipping wine and allowing my thoughts to wander into those happy times of my childhood.

My professional career and the children’s education took precedence. My wife gave up her career to care for the kids. Ferrying them to school and back and for the myriad of their activities usurped our time and energy. Their success was our joy which we recall with great delight.

Wherever we went on holiday it was our ritual to bring back a memento. A collection of those adorned the mantelpiece and the windowsills. Reading has been my joy since I was a kid, a habit which has been passed on to my offspring. The resultant collection was a fine library. Computers have been my hobby and Apple Macs whirred away deep into the night. Their detritus and wires filled every corner of my study.

A "Walawwa", however magical it may sound is not the place for an ageing couple in their retirement. Keeping such a place in good shape even with help is tiring and time consuming. We took the hard decision to move to a small flat just enough for the two of us.

As I look back what amazes me most is how rapidly time has gone. The children have now flown the nest leaving empty rooms, empty chairs and a void that cannot be filled. The once noisy music room became engulfed by silence. The laughter that was ever present seems to have deserted us. Every corner of every room brought back a store of memories of times past. The house had lost its life and sparkle.

Downsizing is a heart-rending business. Losing personal possessions specially those attached to important events in our lives is not easy. Throughout our lives we took photos which are a priceless reminder of times past. They were real paper photos that need space and care. It is impossible to retain them all. Discarding them broke our hearts. Much of the books, clothing and furniture have been given away to charity.

Downsizing helps to concentrate one’s mind to what is important in life. We come into this world with nothing and we leave with nothing. What happens in between is a journey and its memory evaporates into thin air as it ends. After all the next move will be our final rest.

Each of us, my wife and I, owned a car to give us independence. We loved our cars so much we became very attached to them. In London, a car is a liability and parking is a nightmare. There is a congestion charge for all cars for creating pollution. With the passage of years driving at night had become difficult. My reflexes weren’t as quick as before. Unwittingly I had become a reluctant driver. The transport in London by bus, train and underground was excellent. It was free for senior citizens. We both felt it was best to give up our cars. Initially it was like losing our right arm. But soon we began to appreciate the wisdom of our decision.

Although I was moving just 50 miles down south I realised it will be harder to keep friendships with my close pals and former colleagues of 33 years.  Friendships are one of life’s rich gifts. As adults we grew up together and have so much in common. I recall with much nostalgia the many parties we have enjoyed deep into the night. Meeting them now will need planning and effort. The all important ingredient and social lubricant called alcohol will not be there at the table. They have to drive back.

Buying and selling a house is fraught with problems. Estate Agents are in a cutthroat business as are the solicitors who like scavengers live on our misery. The buyer gets bullied by the seller, Solicitors, Estate Agents and the Removal firms. In the UK it is a nightmare. And it astounds me why the government hasn’t come up with an easier path for buying and selling property.

I remember well the day we left our home in Letchworth. The house was completely empty of furniture. As I wandered in silence from room to room, many images of the past flashed across my mind. They were 33 years of bewitching memories, mostly of the children growing up. Leaving these behind was a heartbreak. Life is a huge compromise!!

It was more through luck than judgment I found my nest for life. Living in a flat requires a different mind-set. The block is a community, although not a close one. Everyone is busy with their own lives. We hardly know our neighbours. There are house rules - some written and others implied. There are also civic and social responsibilities. We must respect others’ privacy while sharing the space. Looking through the window at night, I see the geometrically arranged lights of the surrounding blocks. This creates its own beauty. Each light represents people with their own lives, joys and sorrows - we are all a part of the rich tapestry of life.

Moving house is not the end of life but the beginning of a new phase in my life’s journey. I look forward to the peaks and dread the troughs, as I have always done. London is a place of fun, which we can still enjoy. The museums, galleries, concerts and the theatre will fill our time with joy. It is the culinary capital of the world and a gourmets’ paradise. It is said if you are tired of London you are tired of life - how very true. There is so much on offer. I will drink a toast in anticipation - no more moving house again, as long as there is any breath left in my body.

(From the Sunday Island of 21 April 2019)