It’s thrilling to be able to write again at ease. The first semester of Sophomore year ended. The beginning of this year, I wrote about how thinking of turning 21 scares me. It wasn’t so scary today – perhaps to have caught the flu bug and aunt flo on the same day you’re sitting for a morning finals lowered the grandest expectation of turning into an adult, biologically. The person behind the counter tonight would have still think that I’m 16 wearing my school tee, denim shorts ripped at the bottom and sewed back and boat shoes.
I didn’t feel inclined to secretly make wishes today. But I want to talk about a particular fear bugging me for many months now this year. I fear my parents getting old. This would also mean, nearing death. I wrote to Dad about it. (Mom and dad separated a very long time ago). My dad finds his sense of fulfillment in being able to fulfill the customer orders and being in his evening job when he gets to drink and socialize. My mom finds hers in rigorously sharing the posts she finds inspiring on Facebook and the household chores she’s really good at like doing laundry, cleaning and whipping hygienic, delicious and good food. They do not have interests/passions in life they’re/would be pursuing. But mom and dad, respectively, are very alone people. One point to make, I’m very much afraid of being the only company they’re left with to depend on. Because it’s not just the simple issue of holding a job and providing for them.
There comes a time when the implications of age no longer allow you to do things and to lose that ability is traumatic enough. I think the worst thing to feel in life is the loss of hope in living. What is there to look forward to but another day of idle? Who else do you have (left) to count on at this point of time? Over time (although not long), I’d learn that being in the right company of fellow beings does a great deal to one’s perception of their self-worth/esteem. I think it’s never ideal to leave old people alone on their own most of the time, though reality do pose some constraints. Sure, you could say that solitude may still allow for happy thoughts. In reality, capsule doesn’t just evolve on its own through self-revelation (i.e. telling yourself to think positive) but through interventions.
They say happy families are alike in many ways but every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. The irony is that I wrote about childbearing and the purpose of a family a few posts ago. It could be purely transactional that a child returns the caregiving favor to the parent. I never used to see the “dysfunctional” part of being in a family where both parents partake in caregiving responsibility for the child(ren) separately. But I see it now as my parents are aging. Because company of people is so important, I cannot agree more that the family unit becomes the core in holding the aged altogether.
When one used to have a family but its parts are broken from the unit, it doesn’t quite feel the same as having to live in a broken family since the beginning of time. The ailments that they complain of make me think of possible unfortunate situations in time to come when they’ll get on a wheelchair or even go for dialysis. I don’t know whether these ever come to their mind while they go about their routines every day. A permanent halt to one’s routines is earth-shattering. But one thing, I don’t want them to feel anything worth less when that day comes.