I’d be a liar if I say I’m not afraid of age catching up on me. I know it sounds funny to hear this coming from a mere 24 year old but recent happenings have got me thinking about it. What’s even scarier is when you see age catching up on your loved ones.

What prompt me to write today’s post was two things. Firstly, it’s this video I saw on Youtube. It was recommended to me. Yeah, sometimes Youtube recommendations are whacky but it has its perks and this video is one of ’em. It does put tears in your eyes. I felt sorry for Mary, having to live alone in that house.

I’m not sure whether this is the American culture where elderlies get put into homes once they reach a certain stage where care is needed around the clock. Because in my culture, they’re rare cases. So far, I’ve only came across a friend where her grandmother is homed because nobody was able to look after her. Other than that, most of the grandparents of the people I know stay with their families where they’re surrounded by their grandchildren.

The second reason is a combination of several matters.

My mum lives a hectic lifestyle ever since she was forced to make a career out of selling house. Real estate isn’t an easy field. You need to constantly be in and out of the house with house owners and potential buyers to meet. The appointments seemed endless as almost every day she’d be out early in the morning only to be back at night, sometimes late. There are times when I looked at her and I feel she’s getting old. The wrinkles; the forgetfulness; the weariness written on her face. She’s the strongest woman I know but I fear for her at times. I fear age.

Yesterday, I heard from Caely that her grandfather has passed on (May he rest in peace). I offered my condolences to her family and tonight I’ll be staying over because tomorrow, I’m driving her family to the venue where cremation takes place. This made me recalled my grandfather, my mother’s side of course. He’s not doing well at the moment with his multiple illnesses such as Alzheimer, diabetes, Parkinson’s and so on so forth. The last time I saw him was during Chinese New Year. He doesn’t recognize me anymore. I’m not particularly close with him compared to my other cousins but he was still a part of my childhood as there was a period where I stayed in my hometown for months. He also came stayed with us in the big city when I was young and I’ve seen pictures where my parents took him and my grandmother to the museums and malls.

When I sat beside him, I’d always wonder how does it feel to be in his shoes. Does he feel young at heart but trapped in an aging body? What and who does he remember? Do those memories come and go?  Most importantly, does he fear death knocking at the door?

I had a conversation with my mum that one day if I get old and I can’t remember my children or my name anymore, I’d rather be gone. Because I think while life is precious, what makes a human human is memories. Then my mum asked me what would I do if she forgets me one day. Well… I didn’t know how to reply. I know it’ll crush me and I’m sure I’ll be washing my face with tears every day if she asks me who I am but truthfully, I wouldn’t know whether I’d want to keep her around or end her misery.

Here’s another thing, death is something that I’m never comfortable about. I doubt anybody is unless you work at the morgue. I know how I’ll react, just like how I do with everything else that catches me by surprise. I’m certainly going to be like a deer in headlights. I’m currently reading ‘My Best Friend’s Girl’ by Dorothy Koomson and it deals with death as well so I’m curious as to how it’ll turn out.

(PS. This is a morbid subject to discuss about and I do sincerely apologise if I have come off the wrong way to anyone reading this. Good day to all and Happy Valentine’s Day! ❤ )


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