“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

— Psalm 90:12

As another year emerges from the last one, reflection comes naturally. We look back on moments that shaped us, large and small, celebrations and challenges, changes we anticipated—and those we never saw coming.

For many of us at midlife and beyond, this kind of reflection runs deeper. We think of friends, classmates, family members, colleagues, mentors—people who once filled our lives and are no longer here. Now entering my 75^th year, I’ve experienced not only individual losses, but something wider: A growing awareness that my huge baby-boom generation is receding.

Over the last year alone, a litany of artistic and entertainment icons who shaped my boomer culture have passed away: Robert Redford, Bill Moyers, David Lynch, Gene Hackman, Diane Keaton, Rob Reiner, Brian Wilson, Chuck Mangione, Peter Yallow, Susan Brownmiller, Frederick Forsyth, Martin Cruz Smith, Joseph Wambaugh, Jules Feifer, Roberta Flack, Jimmy Cliff, and Sly Stone. That’s just a few of them.

Of the 76 million boomers who were born in the U. S. between 1946 and 1964, roughly 70 to 73 million of them are alive today. By 2030, the population is expected to decline to about 56 million. In fact, by 2028, Gen Xers are projected to outnumber Baby Boomers for the first time.

Okay, Boomers. Not everyone is sad to see us go.

Many baby boomers like me are facing the recognition that our generation’s central role is changing. We were shaped by extraordinary social and cultural upheaval. We questioned authority, challenged norms, and believed—sometimes rightly, sometimes naively—that we could remake the world.

We are yielding space (sometimes grudgingly) to those who come after us. And that realization stirs a complex mix of emotions: sadness, nostalgia, gratitude, a sense of displacement. In remembering our losses, there is grief, certainly, but also something softer. A wistfulness for what was, and an awareness that time is moving us forward. Ready or not.

Honoring those we’ve lost doesn’t require grand gestures. More often, remembrance occurs in small, intimate ways. We tell their stories. We repeat their expressions. We cook their favorite foods. We pass along lessons they taught, sometimes without realizing they were teaching us.

Reflection has its season. It can help us shed what no longer serves us, like a snake leaving behind an old skin. Yet there comes a point when remembrance must give way to re-engagement. This transition can provoke anxiety about our relevance, even a temptation to withdraw and dismiss what comes next.

But this moment calls for something else: succession with grace, and confidence that new voices will shape the future in their own ways, perhaps even better than ours. Legacy isn’t about staying on center stage. It’s about stepping back, offering perspective without insisting on control, and trusting that the world will continue differently, without our constant direction.

In our later years, mortality becomes less abstract. Rather than diminishing life, this awareness often sharpens it. Time feels different. Many of us begin asking quieter, but more fundamental, questions:

What truly matters now?
Which relationships deserve deeper care?
What do I still want to say, to repair, or forgive—or even begin?

Mortality certainly can be clarifying.

The question at this stage of life is not so how much time remains, but how intentionally we choose to live it. Legacy is less about achievement and more about presence—how we listen, how we treat others, how we show up when it counts. And perhaps, how willing we are to keep moving forward, even with losses in our saddle bags. The stories, values, and love we carry are not anchors meant to hold us in place. They are provisions for the journey ahead.

At 45 Forward, we often talk about aging not as decline, but as an ongoing process of growth, adaptation, and purpose. While year’s end reminds us that time moves on, the new year reminds us that life does, too. Even as generations shift, meaning endures through how we live, what we model, and the care we extend.

May we remember well. And may we move forward—steadily, deliberately, and courageously—into the year ahead.

—Ron Roel

Are there important lessons you’ve learned that you’re taking into the New Year? A reflection on aging, loss, or legacy? Feel free to send me a note at ron@45forward.org and we’ll share it in our next newsletter.