Strangely, when I read your reply, two old songs seemed to sing in my ears, one was

Doris Day's  <Whatever Will Be, Will Be>, it sang:

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother what will I be
Will I be pretty, will I be rich
Here's what she said to me

Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be

The other song was Bob Dylan's <Blowing in the Wind>, it sang:

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Well, as time goes by, we feel more pain and happiness of life, we love and be loved, we gain more knowledge and wisdom, and eventually we get more grey hairs and we feel the age.

Life is marvelous. I look at you and say, be happy my friend, when we all get old, I will still remember your charm and beauty.