This is #22 in a series of essays on aging.

One of my wife Popie’s mantras is: “finish well.” She applied it to our kids when they were young, whether in regard to a school year, a class, or a sports team. It’s easy to get tired, distracted or bored late in the season. Don’t do that. Keep your energy up. Renew your focus. You started strong; now finish strong. The prizes don’t go to those who run well on the back stretch, but to those who sprint to the finish line.

It applies to old age, too, but not in quite so straightforward a way. “Doing well” at 15 is not the same as “doing well” at 75.

Many of us become tired, sick, or discouraged as we age. I’s very easy to give up. When you can’t do the things you could as a younger person, it’s tempting to retire from doing anything. I have a friend in his nineties, in perfectly good health, with plenty of money, who appears to have surrendered. He’s isolated himself. He never takes initiative, and he’s resistant to invitations. He acts depressed but won’t admit it. For him, every opportunity is met by the same response: I’m tired. I’m ready to go; I can’t see why I’m still here.

I contracted pneumonia a few weeks ago, a disease I had never had before and hope I never get again. I was never exactly desperate.  I was always capable of shuffling to the bathroom or the kitchen or into the shower. However, I had no energy, no thought of energy, no will, no interest. I could barely make myself chew. And it went on for weeks.

When I came out of it, I thought: I bet other people feel that way. I bet sometimes they feel it for months, or years. I wonder if that’s how my friend feels. I’ve been impatient with his lethargy. Maybe I should rethink that.

None of us really knows what other people cope with. Given the variability of our existence, “finishing well” must become a flexible concept. It means one thing to somebody who is in good health. It means something different to the person recovering from pneumonia.

Nevertheless, certain aspects of life are integral, no matter what we face or how we feel.

Meaning. Finishing well means taking action that is meaningful to you and others. The travel and leisure that many people consider a good retirement rarely create meaning. Meaning involves giving, not taking. Some will find it in volunteering, some in grandparenting. Meaning means contributing, and it sometimes takes considerable ingenuity to find a way for it. I have friends in nursing homes who aren’t mobile and aren’t even mentally agile. Their contribution may be smiling instead of grumbling. That is meaningful, especially to those who care for them every day.

Focus. What are you going to do today? If you have no focus, life happens to you, and you go where the wind blows. That may be good if it’s deliberate. It’s not wrong to choose to spend the day wandering. The important word is “choose,” however. Most days, to finish well, you need to choose a productive way to spend your time. The psalmist prays, “teach us to number our days.” You number things because each one is distinctly important, and you don’t want to lose track of it. Days shouldn’t float by, one the same as any other. Each one deserves to count.

Doing the best you can. As we age, we discover that we can’t do what we once could. This is probably hardest for people who perform at a high level. Professional athletes find it true at the tender age of 35. At forty their careers are over.

I have a good friend who is a first-rate carpenter. He’s as good as he ever was at swinging a hammer or calculating a cut—maybe better. But when it comes to running up and down ladders, or hauling sheetrock, he can’t keep up with the young people, and it wounds him.

“Doing the best you can” means accepting your losses but not surrendering to them. It means focusing every day on making a contribution. You can’t do what you once could, but you can do something. You can give your best.

Love. For me, finishing well in old age means changing to a better value system. I can’t do what I once could, and my pride in my work (and my garden, and my backpacking skills, and my knowledge) begins to shrivel.

Actually, who cares? If anybody mentions that stuff at my memorial service, it will be only because I failed to grow in the most important department: love. I will have finished well if people remember me for my love.

If you maintain bitter quarrels to the end, if you’re not speaking to some people, you have not finished well. Finishing well requires reconciling, or at least trying.

Finishing well requires listening to others, paying attention to their needs rather than focusing on your own. That includes people you tend to dismiss—teenagers, perhaps, or blowhards.

Finishing well involves encouraging others even when you yourself feel discouraged. It means finding praiseworthy qualities and saying them out loud. It means comforting those who feel bruised and vulnerable.

If you show love in such ways, others will remember you with love. In fact, they will never forget you. You will have finished well.