Both of my grandmothers lived to be over 90, so I was 50ish when they passed away. They were both great ladies.
True story about my paternal grandmother when I was about 50. The last time I saw her was at a family reunion, and one of her sons had gathered her up from the VA senior center where she lived. She had had a number of small stokes and her memory was not so good. At some point I went over to say hello, and her son (my uncle) told her (loudly - lots of hearing loss) that "this is Buckeye, he is "Buckeye senior's boy". She looked at me and smiled and said "you always were a pretty boy". Just thinking of it still brings tears to my eyes.
On a more depressing note, one of my grandsons recently turned 29. How can that be?