I watched my friends turn 70 and disappear one by one — and it taught me 7 lessons I didn’t expect

I never expected to learn my most valuable life lessons from a spreadsheet.

During my years as a financial analyst, I tracked everything in neat columns and rows. But when I started tracking something else entirely — the ages of my older friends and mentors — the patterns I discovered changed how I live my life.

It started innocently enough. A mentor from my early career days turned 70, then another colleague, then a family friend. Within five years, I watched as one by one, these vibrant people began to fade from my daily life. Some moved to retirement communities, others became too frail to maintain our regular coffee dates, and heartbreakingly, several passed away.

At first, I felt only sadness. But then, as I filled another journal with my observations (a habit I picked up at 36), I realized these experiences were teaching me something profound about how to live right now, in my forties, with intention and clarity.

1. The window for big dreams closes faster than you think

One of my former colleagues always talked about writing a novel. For fifteen years, I heard about this book. "When I retire," she'd say. "I'll have all the time in the world."

She retired at 68. By 70, arthritis made typing painful. By 72, her memory wasn't sharp enough for the complex plot she'd imagined. The novel never got written.

This haunted me. How many of us are waiting for "someday" to chase our dreams? I thought about my own dream of becoming a writer, pushed aside year after year while I analyzed portfolios and market trends.

That's when I made what seemed like an insane decision. I left my six-figure salary at 37 to write full-time. My savings account screamed in protest, but watching my friend's unfulfilled dream taught me that financial security means nothing if you never get to live the life you actually want.

The lesson? Stop treating your dreams like they have an infinite timeline. They don't.

2. Your body is keeping score, whether you notice or not

A friend once told me, "At 70, you don't get the body you want. You get the body you've earned."

Harsh? Maybe. But watching my older friends struggle with mobility made me realize how every choice compounds over time. The ones who stayed active could still travel, play with grandkids, and maintain independence. Those who'd spent decades saying "I'll start exercising tomorrow" were now limited to short walks, if that.

This observation pushed me to lace up my running shoes consistently. What started as stress relief at 28 has become non-negotiable. Those 20-30 miles I run each week aren't just about today's endorphins. They're an investment in my future mobility and freedom.

Your choices today are writing the story of your seventies. What story are you writing?

3. Relationships require maintenance, not autopilot

Here's something I noticed in my spreadsheet tracking (yes, I actually did this): The friends who disappeared from each other's lives at 70 weren't the ones who'd had dramatic falling-outs. They were the ones who'd slowly let connections fade through neglect.

"We'll catch up soon" turned into years of silence. "I've been meaning to call" became a permanent state. By the time they hit their seventies, reaching out felt awkward, and loneliness had already set in.

Now, I schedule friend dates like business meetings. It sounds unromantic, but it works. Every Sunday, I send at least three messages to people I haven't talked to recently. Not long essays, just simple check-ins. "Thinking of you" or "Remember when we..."

Because here's what I learned: friendship isn't like wine. It doesn't get better with age if you leave it untouched in the cellar. It needs regular attention, or it turns to vinegar.

4. Forgiveness has an expiration date

One of the saddest things I witnessed was a 71-year-old friend trying to reconcile with his brother. They'd stopped talking over some business dispute twenty years earlier. By the time he reached out, his brother had advanced dementia. The opportunity for real reconciliation had passed.

This shook me deeply. How many of us are carrying grudges, waiting for the "right time" to make amends or have that difficult conversation?

I've started asking myself a simple question when I'm holding onto anger: "If one of us was diagnosed with something terminal tomorrow, would this still matter?" Usually, the answer is no. And if it wouldn't matter then, why let it poison my present?

5. Financial freedom isn't what you think it is

My finance background gave me a unique perspective here. I watched retirees with impressive portfolios who couldn't enjoy their wealth because they were too afraid of running out of money. They'd lived so long in scarcity mindset that abundance felt threatening.

Conversely, I knew others with modest savings who lived richly, traveling and pursuing passions because they understood that experiences, not numbers, create wealth.

The real lesson? Financial planning matters, but not at the expense of actually living. Save responsibly, but don't forget to spend on experiences and relationships that feed your soul. Your bank statement means nothing if you've bankrupted your life of joy.

6. Simplicity becomes a superpower

Every friend over 70 told me some version of the same thing: "I wish I'd simplified sooner."

They weren't just talking about decluttering closets (though many mentioned that too). They meant simplifying commitments, relationships, and even their own expectations. The ones thriving in their seventies had learned to say no to obligations that drained them and yes to what genuinely mattered.

This inspired me to conduct my own life audit. I stopped attending events out of obligation. I left committees that no longer aligned with my values. I even changed my diet, going vegan not because it was trendy but because it simplified my relationship with food and aligned with my ethics.

The freedom that comes from simplification is intoxicating. Try it.

7. Legacy isn't what gets carved on your tombstone

The friends who seemed most at peace weren't the ones with the longest resumes or biggest houses. They were the ones who knew they'd made a difference in someone's life. Sometimes it was through grand gestures, but more often through small, consistent acts of kindness.

One friend spent her retirement teaching adults to read. Another mentored young entrepreneurs. Several volunteered at local organizations, sharing their expertise freely.

This changed how I think about legacy. Now, when I volunteer at farmers' markets or mentor young writers, I'm not just filling time. I'm creating ripples that will outlast me.

Final thoughts

Watching my friends age and disappear taught me that life isn't actually about the destination we're all heading toward. It's about how intentionally we travel there.

These seven lessons aren't just observations from a distance. They're invitations to live differently right now. Because the truth is, we don't get to 70 and suddenly become different people. We become more of who we've been all along.

So who are you becoming? And more importantly, is that who you want to be when your own seventies arrive?

The spreadsheet of life doesn't lie. But unlike financial data, you can still change the trends. The question is: will you?