99 Years Apart A Girl A Woman Talk About Life

You should tell people you love them, even if it's embarrassing. You're really old. Well now, that's true. I'm one hundred and four. Whoa! That's like, that's more than a hundred. It is more than a hundred. By four. My baby brother is zero. Well, he's almost one. But you're a hundred and four. So you're like a hundred and four more than him. That's very good math. I know. I'm good at math. I can count to a hundred. Can you count to a hundred? I can, though I might fall asleep partway through. Can I ask you questions? I'd like that very much. Nobody asks me questions anymore. They just tell me things. Dorothy, it's time for lunch. Dorothy, take your pills. That's like me. Sally, put on your shoes. Sally, stop bothering your brother. You see, we're the same, you and me. Everybody telling us what to do. Okay, what's the worst thing about being old? The worst thing is that everyone you loved goes away. And then you're still here. And you have all these memories that nobody else has anymore. Like they died? Yes, my husband's. I had two. One at a time. Not at the same time. My parents. All my brothers and sisters. My son. My friends. Everyone I went to school with. Everyone I taught with. Even most of my students. They're all gone now. And I'm still here. Holding all the stories. That's really sad. My grandma died. Grandma June. I was three. I don't really remember her. But I have her picture by my bed. Do you talk to her picture sometimes? Yeah. I tell her about my day. And about Theo. She never met Theo. Because she died before he was born. That's not silly, you know. Talking to her. I still talk to Harold. That was my first husband. He's been gone 57 years. And I still tell him things before I go to sleep. What do you tell him? Oh, what I ate for dinner. What I watched on television. Whether my hip is hurting. The little things. He always liked the little things. Can I tell you something nobody asks about? Yeah. The other worst thing about being old. Is that people think you're not really there anymore. They talk about you like you can't hear. Oh, Dorothy's having a good day. Dorothy seems confused. I'm right here. I'm still Dorothy. I'm still the girl who used to catch fireflies on the farm. And put them in jars. You used to catch fireflies? Hundreds of them. We didn't have television. We had fireflies. I only ever saw one firefly. Just one. At my grandpa's cabin. In Iowa. You should see more fireflies, Sally. Before they're gone. Are they going away? Everything goes away eventually. But not for a long time. You've got lots of time. What's the worst thing about being young? Nobody listens to you. Like, I try to say something and grown-ups are like, uh-huh. But they're not really listening. They're looking at their phones. Or they're doing something else. Or they're like, not now, Sally. I'm busy with Theo. I'm listening to you right now. I know. You look at my face when I talk. That's how you know someone's listening. If they look at your face. My mommy says that. But then she looks at her phone. Can I ask you a question now? Yeah! What do you think happens when people die? My mommy says they go to heaven. And my daddy says they become like part of everything. Like the trees in the sky. And my Sunday school teacher says they go to be with Jesus. So I think maybe all of those? Like maybe heaven is everywhere. And Jesus is there. And you're in the trees too? That's the best answer I've ever heard. Really? Really. I've been asking myself that question for 104 years. And you just said it better than anyone. Are you scared of dying? I was. For a long time I was so scared. When Harold died, I didn't sleep for weeks. Afraid I'd be next. And then years went by. And more people I loved died. And I didn't. And now I'm mostly just tired. And curious. I want to know what comes next. I want to see Harold again. And Eugene. And my boy Michael. I hope it's the trees in heaven together. Me too, sweetheart. Don't be sad. I'm not sad. I'm happy talking to you. Can I tell you a secret? Please. Sometimes, sometimes I pretend I'm invisible. Like nobody can see me. And I walk around my house and I pretend I'm a ghost. And nobody notices. Because sometimes nobody notices anyway. Oh, Sally. Is that weird? No, I feel invisible too. Every day. I sit in this chair and people walk past. And they don't see Dorothy. They see the old lady. But inside, I'm still that little girl on the farm. I'm still 12 years old. Riding a horse for the first time. I'm still 22. And dancing with Harold at our wedding. I'm still 45. And holding my son's hand at his graduation. In here. All of those Dorothys are still in here. You don't stop being 5, you know. You add on to it. Someday, you'll be 104. And you'll still have the 5-year-old Sally inside you. That's kind of cool. It is kind of cool. Okay, I have another question. Go ahead. What's the best thing about being old? Nobody can tell me what to do anymore. Not really. They try. But I've earned the right to be stubborn. To eat dessert first if I want to. To say exactly what I think. You can eat dessert first? Every single day if I want to. That's the best thing I ever heard. What's the best thing about being young? Everything's still coming. Like, I don't know what's going to happen. It could be anything. My daddy says I could be a doctor. Or a firefighter like him. Or a... a... astronaut. An astronaut, yes. You could be. Did you want to be something when you were 5? I wanted to be a bird. So I could fly away from the farm and see the ocean. Did you ever see the ocean? I did. I was 63 years old. Eugene took me. We stood on the beach in California. And I cried. Why did you cry? Because I waited so long. Don't wait, Sally. Whatever you want to see, go see it. Don't be like me. Okay. Do you have any advice for me? Me? I'm 5. So, you're very smart. Tell me something I should know. Okay, um... You should... you should tell people you love them. Even if it's embarrassing. Because my mommy's mommy, Grandma June, my mommy says she wishes she told her more. And now she can't. So you should tell people before you can't. Sally, that's very good advice. I know. I'm going to call my granddaughter today. And I'm going to tell her I love her. And that I'm proud of her. Good. Sally, I'm very glad I met you. Me too. You're not like what I thought. What did you think? I thought you'd be boring. And smell weird. And fall asleep. Well, the day is young. I might still fall asleep. Can I come visit you again? I would love that. But Sally, don't wait too long. I'm 104. I might not be here. You'll be in the trees and heaven. With Hale and Eugene and Michael. I'll talk to you there. Yes, you talk to me there.