Thursday, November 23, 2006 Magsaysay: The joy of being old? By Jo Magsaysay Whatever
AN exemplary minister of several socio-religious activities, a true servant of God and my special friend Rev. Fr. Socrates Saldua once told me to write something about the joy of being old. Dear Father Soc let me tell you…
*****
What is the joy of being old when I know that death is waiting for me just around the corner?
What is the joy of looking at my beautiful grandchildren knowing that I will no longer be there to watch them grow into adulthood, not being there for them?
What is the joy in a painful back preventing me from doing what I want to do, from going where I want to go?
What is the joy in seeing my favorite passion flowers blooming in the morning and seeing them die and wither in the afternoon?
What joy is there to have my children raise their voices to shout at me?
What joy is there to wake up in the middle of the night wondering if I will wake up in the morning?
What is the joy on looking at the mirror to see the bags under my eyes, the creases wrinkling my neck making me look like a turkey?
What is the joy in limping around with a cane and walking like a drunk duck?
What is the joy in talking only to hear my voice quavering and crackling like pebbles passing through a grinder turning into gravel and gritty sand?
What is the joy in learning that another one of my old friends has passed away?
What is the joy in the darkening gloom of old age slowing down my senses, my eyesight dimming, my hearing gone, my mind failing, my hands trembling so I have to give up writing my column?
*****
Dear Father Soc, let me tell you much more…
There is such joy in looking at my grandchildren, secure in the thought that they will grow into maturity instilled with strong moral values imparted to them by their own parents who walk on the path of the Lord!
What joy is there in knowing that the passion flowers will bloom again in the morrow, to continue the cycle of life in reassurance that life goes on!
What joy to have friends and strangers rushing to help this old woman hobbling with her cane. Kindly settling her down in a comfortable chair, assisting her up and down stairs, serving her food and drink, making her feel like a queen, happy to be so special!
What joy there is to hear my children raise their voices to shout that I may listen to their conversation, to hear them say how much they love me!
What joy it is remembering all my old friends who have gone and died, recalling the happy times we had, the secrets we kept, the treasured memories, the wonderful gift of their friendship to cherish forever!
*****
There is no joy really in looking like a turkey but I look at the bags and wrinkles and pouches as marks of honorable distinction for having endured sleepless nights of grief and worry, for surviving the trials that beset me through the years, hard earned scars from the battle with life!
What a joy it is to see a flicker of light in the darkening shadows of old age casting a bright spot to illuminate the fifty years of writing my column when I had reached out and touched some people and moved them to think, to feel, to smile!
What joy there is to have my children doing for me what I want to do, going for me where I want to go, overwhelming me with what I need, what I want, even things I do not need or want, practically smothering me with care and attention whenever I am sick, lavishing me most of all with their love!
*****
There is no joy at all in having a voice that makes me cackle like an old witch so perish the thought that I can think of something goody-goody about it!
What joy is there in being old and alive squeezing every precious moment of happiness, suffering every pang of pain and grief and offering them all to the good Lord in thanksgiving for having blessed me with the gift of life!
What glorious joy to know most of all that when I meet with death at the end of the corner, I shall be met by my Lord and Savior, His arms extended to welcome me into His Kingdom…
