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| Photo by Erik Mclean on Unsplash |
During the last year of my mom's life, as both her health and her enthusiasm for living declined rapidly, I repeatedly encouraged her to keep fighting. She didn't have a serious or chronic illness. She was simply giving up, and no amount of antidepressants, doctor visits, changes of scenery, pep talks or sweets could snap her out of it. "If you would only have a better attitude, do your exercises and eat more, you would feel better," I told her, over and over.
She wouldn't listen. Instead, she would look at me sadly, turn and gaze out the window in her room. "You just don't understand, Cheryl." I don't know if she could have said anything that frustrated or annoyed me more. It seemed like such a cop-out.
But she was right. I didn't understand. I didn't know what it was like to be 85 years old and dependent on my child to care for me. I didn't know what it was like to have lived for over 20 years without my spouse. I didn't know what it was like to have constant nagging aches and pains, to be cold all the time, and to struggle to control my bodily functions. I didn't know what it was like to be her.
I still don't know. But as my own years advance, I think I am starting to gain a little more insight into the perspective that comes with old age. It's a mixed bag. You have greater experience and, one hopes, greater wisdom. But because you have less strength and less energy, the world is less likely to listen to you.
For all our talk of respecting old age, and appreciating the wisdom of years, and listening to our elders ... I don't think we're very good at it. The world is interested in strength, not weakness; pizzaz, not thoughtfulness. Youth moves quickly and loudly, commanding attention; age is slow and soft, easy to discount. I realize these are generalizations. Young people aren't all dynamic and fast and loud; old people aren't all introspective and slow and softspoken. But it's not merely a cliche that age begets something that youth doesn't have. God tried to tell us as much in the Fourth Commandment. We would do well to listen to Him.
For all the times I didn't get it, Mom and Dad, I am sorry. I wish I could go back in time, knowing what I know now, and do a few things differently. I wish I had slowed down, asked you more questions, taken time to listen to your answers, and benefited more from what you had to say.
Of course, I can't go back. On the contrary, the years seem to be racing by as I get closer and closer to being that old person that someone else doesn't understand. But maybe, by writing this, I can encourage someone else to take time, stop and listen. Maybe, if you are reading, you will some day be the one sitting with an old person, and you'll remember these words, and try harder to understand.
