When my mother was dying – when she had accepted her fate – I had never seen her so calm, content even. She was warm, honest and open. And funny. Even when the pain was at its worst, she would see us by her bedside, light up, and clap her hands for the merriment to commence.

She had the choice to spend her last days angry with her lot and frightened about the end. But she knew minutes were to be embraced, cherished and celebrated. They were precious and not to be wasted. There was nothing she could do to change her circumstances and so she made the most of her final moments. I watched on with unwavering respect and gratitude.

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A goddaughter of mine recently passed her law degree. But damn, in the lead-up to the results being released, she was a neurotic mess. Of course, I understood her angst. Big time. She’d worked so bloody hard. Her future was at stake. But I tried to tell her that nothing further could be done, that she couldn’t change the outcome, that she should enjoy some peace while she can.

Another friend has just put his mother into a retirement home. Riddled with guilt, he was self-flagellating at my place before moving her, running through all the options once again. However, the reality was always the same. His mother couldn’t look after herself any longer. Doctors insisted she got 24-hour care. She wasn’t safe in her home. But still, he beats himself up.

My only advice to him was to spend time with her, console her, love her, but also take a breath. She is being cared for. Others now have the baton. He can and should rest a little easier. The decision is now not his, but fate’s.

And so, I am giving myself the same advice as I grow older. I look in the mirror and lament the sags, bags, wobbly bits (my eyelids look like a basset hound’s). But I’m also keeping a lid on my vanity and the temptation to tinker, to try to control the process. Que sera, sera has never made more sense. Ageing is a gift, and like all things worthwhile, it comes with a caveat. Just as life comes with death, living comes with ageing. I can’t change nature, so why beat myself up trying?

This doesn’t mean I won’t do my best to make the most of myself. But the truth is, I can only do my best. The rest is out of my control. I can either dwell on futility or get on with my future. I choose the peaceful option.

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