The Final Chapters: aging with grace

Part 8 of the ‘Women & Alcohol: A Life in Balance’ series

Today, it really feels like autumn. It’s one of those days where the air feels cooler, the sun makes only fleeting appearances, and the trees are starting to turn golden. I picked the first conker of the year for my son last week, a tradition that goes back to his early childhood and signals the back-to-school rush. The kids are all grown up and (mostly) out in the world so home is quieter and tidier these days and I miss the noise and the chaos. I know that for a lot of women in my position, a glass of something in the evening might step in as a substitute for the frenetic activity, the noise and the dramas. It fills the empty space, but often it reflects the absence more than eases it. On the other hand, not having to stay permanently sober to pick up, drop off and generally be mum’s taxi for a bunch of teenagers means you can enjoy more time with friends over a glass or two.

On evenings like this you might catch yourself sitting quietly, holding a drink. Maybe it’s tea, maybe wine, maybe something stronger. Whatever it is, your thoughts drift and you find yourself wondering where did all the time go. Writing this series has certainly led me to a few reflective moments and three events occurred this summer that have really got me thinking about the passage of time.

Firstly, my sixtieth birthday (what? I don’t look a day over fifty-nine, you say? Thank you – I moisturise). The fam and I went to the Dominican Republic for some well-earned R&R (that’s rest and recuperation, not rock and roll, obvs. Well, there was a bit of rock and roll, but also lots of afternoon naps) and it was sooo good to spend some time with the kids and my adorable grandchild. There’s nothing like spending time with your grown up kids to make you feel young again, and there’s nothing like a big birthday to get you thinking about your own mortality. I remember writing blogs about not drinking on my fiftieth and that seems both a lifetime and not so very long ago. As we women head into our seventh decade, there are lots of changes that can impact on our drinking habits, and I’ve been experiencing all of them!

Back in the spring, the thought hit me that, just a few years ago, I’d have been considering retiring at sixty. Free bus pass, nice little pension, maybe take up gardening. But no, still another seven years until I become a pensioner, despite my eligibility to take up residence in the nearby retirement ‘village’ that promises me golden memories for my golden years. Er, no thanks. What do people do when they retire? After years of work, deadlines and commitments, the calendar suddenly opens wide. No more rush hours or meetings. Freedom arrives, but with it comes the question: what now? Without the scaffolding of routine, a tipple can creep earlier, moving from occasional pleasure into something more constant.

Anyway, back to my birthday, which was fabulous.

One of my gifts was a ‘Tell us about your life, mom’ journal, which really piled on the age-related reflection. Not seeing the kids every day is hard. The joy of a week in their company brings into sharp relief the fact that I’m not involved in their everyday lives anymore. Luckily, I my grandson keeps me on my toes, so there’s plenty to keep me occupied but empty nesting, like retirement, is a huge trigger for upping our alcohol consumption, according to research. No surprises there.

The third event was the unexpected death of my mother-in-law at the end of our first week away. Grief is awful, rearranging life in ways we could never prepare for. Whether the loss is a partner, a parent or a close friend, as we get older, we start to lose the people we love. A glass of wine can slip easily into that grief, easing the sting for a moment and softening memories that otherwise arrive too sharp. Bereavement can easily set us up for drinking more than we mean to.

The funeral is this week, in Scotland. There will be tears and stories and, of course, alcohol. We will toast our lovely matriarch, although she was teetotal, and there is comfort in the remembering, and in the drinking. Rest in peace, Gail Booker.

Through grief, the empty nest and retirement, the connecting thread is change. Each transition dismantles old habits and asks us to build new ones. These shifts can feel unsettling and disorienting, but they also hold possibility. When you pause and ask yourself, “What am I really longing for in this moment?”—whether it’s comfort, companionship, rest or laughter—you begin to see more clearly. Alcohol often masks those needs, while awareness brings them into the light.

There are many ways to respond to these life changes. When sorrow feels heavy, write a letter instead of pouring another drink. When silence fills the house, pick up the phone and invite someone for coffee. When retirement leaves days wide open, look for pastimes that offer both activity and rest. None of these choices need to be dramatic; small, steady rituals can carry enormous weight.

I’ve heard women say, “I only poured a glass because I was bored - I didn’t know what else to do,” or “The house was too quiet, and I needed company.” These confessions aren’t failures—they’re signposts, pointing toward what really matters. Alcohol isn’t the villain here, but when it becomes the automatic response, it can obscure what your heart is truly asking for. Drink Wise, Age Well have created a fab little video that illustrates beautifully how easy it is for us more mature folk to rely a little too much on the booze as we hit these milestones and how we can get help to get back on track.

Each of these life stages is an invitation to reimagine how you mark time. The glass can still have its place, but it doesn’t need to stand alone. Alongside it, you might choose conversation, movement, art or quiet reflection. I’m considering a PhD or moving to Spain! Or both! These transitions are rarely tidy, but they carry wisdom. With that wisdom comes the freedom to create rituals that honour your past while helping you step, with grace, into what’s ahead. Life continues to ask us to grow, and in responding, we give ourselves the chance to write new chapters.