What Endings Means As Used Here


Sometime after the old story begins to loosen, whether it’s about retiring, family changes, or physical changes, . . . things that once worked start to fail quietly.

Not all at once.

Not catastrophically.

Just enough to be noticed.

Then ignored.

Then noticed again.

Roles that had carried weight for decades grow lighter, then awkward, then hollow.

Certainties thin.

Effort produces less return.

The familiar moves stop landing the way they used to.

At first, this feels like a problem to solve.

Most of us were trained that way.

If something stops working, we adjust.

If a role loses power, we reinforce it.

If meaning fades, we double down on purpose.

But, this time, doubling down does not help.

What is happening does not respond to improvement.

It does not want optimization.

It does not want encouragement.
It wants something to end.

That realization comes slowly, and then all at once.

Looking back, it becomes clear there were several such endings . . . more than a few.

Enough changes in enough areas of life to change the ground we thought was solid.

Each one arrives disguised as inconvenience or failure or fatigue.

Each one asks to be managed . . . and each one resists management.

A capacity relied on for years slips away.

A way of being respected no longer applies.

A sense of usefulness evaporates without explanation.

These moments aren’t clearly losses at the time . . . . so they get treated as problems . . . and that makes things worse.

Only in hindsight does it become clear that something more fundamental has been happening.

Not change in the ordinary sense . . . not transition . . . not reinvention.

It is something closer to death . . . not physical death . . .

Not emotional collapse.

Identity death . . . the passing away of things that we always took for granted . . . that we thought were us.

Leaving us with an obvious, but very difficult question: If these things that we thought defined us aren’t true anymore, then who the heck are we now?
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The Quiet Question Almost No One Talks About

For decades, our life had structure of one form or another:

  • A dress code.

  • A schedule.

  • A paycheck.

  • A job description.

  • A family.

    Then, almost overnight, the noise quiets. Work slows. Kids are gone. The phone doesn’t chirp as much, (or whatever your phone does.) The world seems to have moved on.   We find ourselves left standing on the platform asking a question that many of us men over 60 are too proud to ask out loud:

“What now?”

This isn’t just about filling time.  It’s about identity. It’s more a matter of Who do you think you are now?

For years, we were needed one way or another, even it was just being the one who knew how to unclog the copy machine.  At one level or another, these things have given our days meaning even if we didn’t realize it at the time. 

But, when the world stops needing us in the same ways, we can feel we’re not needed any more.  This can eat away at our spirit in ways that can be hard to pin down.

But here’s the vital takeaway here: we are not finished.

Purpose Isn’t a Job Description

We’ve been conditioned to tie who we see ourselves as to our careers, our titles, or our roles in the family.  When meeting someone, the first question is most often “ . . . and, what do you do?” 

But purpose isn’t something you retire from. Purpose is bigger than a paycheck. It’s about direction . . .  a reason to wake up each morning and move forward.

Think of purpose like a compass. When we were younger, that compass pointed toward raising kids, climbing the career ladder, or providing. Now that compass shifts . . .  and it’s up to us to recalibrate.

The men who thrive after 60 aren’t the ones who cling to the past. They’re the ones who ask, “What mission can I take on now?”

The Cost of Drifting Without Purpose

If we don’t wrestle with this question, life can slowly turn into waiting . . . waiting for the next doctor’s appointment, waiting for the next call from the kids, waiting for the end.

Drifting without purpose can show up in small but dangerous ways:

  • Days filled with mindless TV or scrolling on our phone.

  • Growing frustration in our marriage because we’re restless but can’t name why.

  • Health slipping because there’s nothing pushing us to stay sharp.

  • A quiet loneliness that eats at us even when the house isn’t empty.

Without purpose, the days blend together. And before long, we can find ourselves living like we’re already gone.

The Shift: From Being Needed to Choosing Our Mission

Here’s the breakthrough: the world doesn’t get to assign us a mission anymore. We get to choose.

That’s a powerful shift. At this stage of life, we finally have freedom that we never had before. No boss. No time clock. No kids depending on you 24/7. That freedom can feel scary, but it’s also a gift.

Our new mission could take many forms:

  • Mentorship: Passing on our hard-won wisdom to younger men who are starving for guidance.

  • Health: Treating our bodies like the last vehicle we’ll ever drive and pushing ourselves to stay strong.

  • Marriage and Family Renewal: Reinvesting in our relationships instead of coasting into silence.

  • Service: Volunteering, teaching, or counseling — ways to use our experience for someone else’s gain.

  • Personal challenge: Learning, traveling, writing, or building something we always said we’d get around to.

Purpose is not about keeping busy. It’s about living with intention.  Living like we mean it.

A Story You’ll Recognize

 Take the 68-year-old retired teacher I counseled. For 40 years, his identity was wrapped up in his students and his classroom. Retirement hit him harder than he expected. He felt invisible and restless.  After just talking to him for a few minutes I that this would be a slam dunk for helping him see ways to get going on this new stage.

Instead of fading away, he made a decision: he started tutoring kids at the local library. That small step gave him back a sense of contribution. Soon, he began mentoring young men who didn’t have fathers in their lives. His days became full again . . .  not because the world needed him in the same way, but because he chose to make himself available in new places.

He didn’t “get his old purpose back.” He built a new one.

How to Find Your Next Mission

If you’re struggling with the “what now?” question, here are some steps you can take:

  1. Acknowledge the loss. It’s okay to admit that retirement or slowing down feels disorienting. Don’t bury it. Name it.  

  2. Inventory your strengths. What do people naturally come to you for? Advice? Encouragement? Skills? Start there.

  3. Experiment. Purpose doesn’t appear in theory. Try something . . .  volunteer, write, join a group. You’ll know when something clicks. And, remember that if a baseball player consistently gets a hit one out of three times at bat, he’s a star.  Don’t get hung up on the other two.

  4. Set a rhythm. Most of us men seem to thrive with structure. Even a simple daily routine (walk, journal, read, connect) helps anchor our sense of purpose.

  5. Invest in relationships. Purpose is always tied to people. Isolation shrinks us; connection expands us.

We Still Matter

The world may not call on us thein the same wasy it once did. It probably won’t.  Bu, that doesn’t mean we’re finished. In fact, this chapter may be the most important one yet . . .  because now, our purpose isn’t assigned. It’s chosen.

And choosing it means we’re no longer waiting for the phone to make whatever sound we’ve chosen (when someone chooses to have their cellphone ring I’ve noticed heads turn.)

When we’re taking ownership of our days,  we’re living intentionally. We’re becoming the man our younger selves may have hoped we’d be.

Men60Plus exists for this very reason . . . to walk together as we uncover those next missions. We don’t have to drift. We don’t have to fade. We can live with direction, strength, and purpose, I must admit I don’t feel like it.  For me, at least, I’ve found that that’s OK too. The motivation to move ahead comes back eventually.

Because the truth is simple: the world may not need us in the same ways anymore . . .  but there are still  things worth doing.

What We Mean by Endings
Every man reaches a point where the old story no longer fits. Careers close. Roles shift. Friendships thin out. The things that once defined us don’t hold the same weight. These endings aren’t failures — they’re signals that something new is asking for space.What We Mean by Endings
Every man reaches a point where the old story no longer fits. Careers close. Roles shift. Friendships thin out. The things that once defined us don’t hold the same weight. These endings aren’t failures — they’re signals that something new is asking for space.

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