PEOPLE my age are most likely dealing with elderly parents, if they still have any. And the elderly can be difficult to handle. Veeery difficult, thus the joke: Mahirap magpalaki ng mga
magulang. Moreso when they are approaching the 90’s. Like my mom who’s 89.
First, and for me, the most infuriating is, they get sick. Not just sick sick. But hospitals with a lot of tusok-tusoks and drama sick. We’ve had two in 2025. One for what the doctor said was the onset of dementia (Thank God for pranic healing, she returned slower but as hard-headed as ever). The next, pneumonia.
Both times, she returned home more battered than when she was admitted.
Both times, she’d ask God to take her. God hasn’t replied yet; her Earth contract’s not over, it seems.
In her home recovery after the last confinement, this has been our conversation. My way to shut her up and send her to sleep.
“Ayoko na! Hirap na hirap na ako!” she told me for the nth time as I settled her down in bed.
“Kayo mag-usap ni God dahil wala akong magagawa,” I replied.
Whenever she’d say the same again, I’d just reply, “Nag-usap na ba kayo ni God?”
That’s what’s different when taking care of old people. What we thought as morbid becomes
ordinary conversation. Death becomes a tangible reality, no longer viewed with fear.
They are more than ready to leave this mortal existence; they have done their part. They raised us up in the best way they can, they contributed to society, and now they’re no longer fit enough to do anything but wait for the day.
My mom was a public school teacher. Into her mid-80s, she even became president of the
senior citizens’ association in our village. Now, she can no longer walk unassisted outside the home.
Less than five years ago, she’d even go to the mall on her own, disappearing for hours. During Covid time, she rode the jeepney to go to SSS to check on some documents, sending my niece to tears when she found out mom made her escape. Now, all that’s past and all she does is sleep, sit, eat, and watch TV. She gave up crocheting, saying it now hurts her hands, she’s not fond of reading nor drawing; she orders the caregiver to do the Wordsearch, which she used to do.
This has sent me thinking: how I would want to spend my most senior years. I may no longer be crocheting because it hurts the hand, but maybe I can paint. Writing will remain, the same with healing.
Comes the realization that when we age, there is indeed the tendency to slow down a lot.
Maybe because the eyes are already tired of reading and doing crafts and art become tedious, or the hands and legs are no longer steady and strong. A lot of physical changes will happen, but for as long as our life contract isn’t up yet, we need to keep on doing something or else, everyday becomes an agonizing wait for the end.
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