On Behalf of the Elderly

I love old people. I hope they don’t mind if I call them that. They call themselves that after all. When one wheelchair was moved to be next to the other, the Grandpa said: “Well, looks like an old lady is going to sit beside an old man.” I often hear them talking about their age.

"I think you must be the oldest one here!”

“Are you ninety yet?”

"Oh, you know I am!"

And,

“If we live six more days, we will reach our 70th wedding anniversary! We were only twenty-two back then...”

So much life has been lived. How many stories are stowed away inside them? Sometimes if their mind is nudged a little, a smile of recognition breaks across their face, and their eyes sparkle with fondness at the memory of some bygone year- a memory of mischief had with their brother; of a story a student once told them.

It breaks my heart to think that one has been forgotten. We don't see family come to visit. There are no birthday cards or letters from family hung on their walls. Is it because their mind has gone? In the hour of their death, when it is one of our hands holding theirs, sitting alone in a darkened room with them as they take their final breath of life, the grief is lonely... and perhaps different. At least someone was there.

And for those of you who do visit, I want to tell you something beautiful:

They wait for you.

A sweet Grandma requested to be helped into her wheelchair thirty minutes early because her daughter was coming by and she wanted to be ready. Someone’s Grandpa had his chair turned to face the window so he could see the road and his grandchildren waving as they drove past. When I asked him when they were coming, he revealed that it was still another fifteen minutes away. “But, I want to be ready in case they come early!”

(By the way, I also got to see the waving grandchildren. They were very serious about it, too. One of them even put nearly their whole body out the window to wave at Grandpa.)

It warms me up when they get to spend time with their loved ones. A wife comes every day and pushes her husband’s wheelchair to where they can look at the flowers together. A letter from someone’s sister convinces an elusive smile to flicker across the quiet one’s face. Phone calls from Canada are frequent and long. Everyone has a part to play.

And when a spouse passes away, the one left behind tells us: “I’m so glad he’s Home, but I miss him every day."

So please, go visit Grandma in the care home. If you can't visit, send her a letter, or even a text message. If she can’t figure out how to open it, she will ask us for help. It means the world to them, and, less importantly, it means the world to us.

Sincerely,

A caregiver