Who Will Be Around You When You’re 85?

It’s a simple question with surprising power. And answering it now could change your relationships forever.

Photo by Yutacar on Unsplash

A Birthday, a Barbecue, and a Bunch of Idiots I Love

When I picture my eighties, when I let myself imagine the years that come after the work, the mortgage, the kid-wrangling, the Monday mornings, I don’t see a quiet lawn or a beige recliner.

I see my children, grown. Not necessarily nearby. I left England in my twenties and built a life I love in Australia, far from where I started. If they do the same, chasing love or learning or freedom, I’ll be proud. I want that for them. A life by choice, not by default.

But I hope we’re close, still. Not just on Christmas cards or in obligatory phone calls, but in a way that matters. That says: we still know each other.

And when I’m not off somewhere with my wife in an RV in the Northern Territory, half-lost, probably, I picture a barbecue. Not a big one. Just a birthday. A warm evening. And a bunch of old football mates still calling each other names.

We’ll argue about who was better in 2007. We’ll forget why we fell out in 2014. And we’ll still laugh like idiots about something nobody else would ever find funny.

That’s the life I want to keep designing for.

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Friendship Is a Design Choice

We plan for money. For health. For housing. But the quality of our ageing - the real, daily, human experience of it - will hinge far more on our relationships than on our superannuation balance.

And yet we so rarely say the thing that matters: I want you in my life for the long haul.

It feels awkward. Sentimental. Maybe even embarrassing.

But the truth is, our future selves are begging us to say it.

Because ageing doesn’t just happen to our bodies. It happens to our networks. People move. Drift. Fall out. Fall ill. Grow lonely. And by the time we realise we need someone, they may have no idea they were ever wanted.

Designing your ageing isn’t just about where you live or how much care you’ll need. It’s about who you’re still laughing with when you're 85, and whether they’ll still be laughing with you.

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The Data We Avoid

Here’s the uncomfortable part.

One in three Australians over 75 reports feeling lonely. One in four sees their closest friend less than once a month. And by the time people enter residential aged care, up to 52% report symptoms of depression.

Loneliness doesn’t just hurt emotionally. It accelerates cognitive decline, weakens immunity, and increases risk of premature death by nearly 30%. That’s not poetry. That’s epidemiology.

And yet, we often treat relationships as if they’ll maintain themselves. They won’t.

They require intention. Like anything else that matters.

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So Here’s My Ask of You

I want you to do something bold. Not grand. Not expensive. Just bold in the way that vulnerability often is.

Think about your answer to this:

Who do you still want in your life when you're 85?

Name them. Be honest. Be specific. Then do the thing we almost never do.

Tell them.

Not in a weird, morbid, “I’m writing my will” kind of way. Just: "Hey, I was thinking about the future. And I hope we’re still in each other’s lives when we’re old. That’s all."

Yes, it’ll feel awkward. Yes, they might laugh or make a joke. But I guarantee you’ll make their day. And you’ll move one inch closer to the kind of future worth growing older in.

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Your Turn

I’d love to hear who came to mind.

Share it in the comments if you're up for it. One name. One reason. One moment of honesty in a world that badly needs more of it.

And if you’d rather not post it publicly, email me. Seriously. I’ll read every one.

Because designing your ageing doesn’t start with paperwork.

It starts with people.