Grow old gracefully?

Grow old gracefully?
Not in this lifetime!
Aging by definition doesn’t inspire me with thoughts of grace.
I’ll invest in sourcing the most raucous thrash metal until I can’t rock anymore.
Or deafness…
Whichever comes first.
I’m already thinking of purchasing a ludicrously loud motorcycle to treat myself if ever I become a venerable 70-Something.
And should I happen to pass into that long night, play some Metallica at my farewell party!

These thoughts aren’t intended to portray a flippant attitude.
Not in the least.
I once attended a funeral where AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck” blared into the auditorium and bore testimony to one who dared to live a full life despite years of experiencing adverse health.
Nothing about those few minutes filled with power chords signalled the intent to rebel, or even dismiss the finality of that goodbye.
And I saw not a single dry eye in the house that afternoon.
Appreciation for a life who dared, against all odds… And the loss thereof affirmed with a loud and fitting eulogy!

Over time I’ve met too many older people who, in my opinion aged because they lost interest in exploring new things.
This is a question I’ve reflected on many times…
Do we lose interest in the complexity of life when we grow old, or do we subscribe to an idea that advancing age automatically comes shipped with a new “more dignified” or “toned-down” set of rules for living?

The idea of turning into a crusty old git never appealed to me.
I also dislike the idea that some older folk feel that their age allows them to be caricatures of insufferable behaviour.
That being said…
If I’m not a danger to myself or society, and I don’t embarrass myself too much then I don’t see the harm in recreating my own language for “growing old.”
Opting to use words such as “Diminished capacity” instead of “it’s done.”
“Recovery” instead of “regret” and “redefine” instead of “resign.”