The hassle of being old

I was back at my old house in SS 1, PJ. this last few days. I had to go to University Hospital to get my medication. Going back to my old house is always a pleasure but also a source of stress to me. I feel sad, angry and frustrated sometimes to see my old house is being treated like a temporary shelter by my children. My oldest daughter, Ika and her husband, Justin and my son Izrin, live there now. They don't bother much about the house, let alone repair all the minor damages that are normal for old house . The door of the back toilet which has become the cats' toilet has been spoilt for years, not repaired. Locks have become loose, not replaced and my garden is neglected. Once I had a well-tendered garden which became the envy of my neighbours as I love gardening. It pains my heart to see that my children put in minimal care for the house that they have lived in since they were born. I don't think Izrin knows what's going on in the house. He leaves for work late morning and comes home late at night or sometimes not coming home at all when he is bogged down with work. So whenever I come back, much of my time is spent on sweeping and tidying up, which left me feeling tired, unappreciated, sad and stressed. That's one reason why I like staying in my little apartment on my own.

Talking about children, I met an old man in the Q to get medications at UH. He was wobbly and couldn't stand straight. Obviously he was ill. I volunteered to take his medication so that he can sit down. He declined as he had to explain somethimg to the pharmacist. The lady behind me commented that he shouldn't come alone to the hospital and that his children should take him there. Seems to me UH is not sensitive at all towards the elderly. Standing in a long Q is common. I had the opportunity to chat with him while waiting for his turn. According to him his children are very busy at work. He drove to UH with his wife who suffered from Parkinson and has just been discharged for mild heart attack. I couldn't believe my ears. He was endangering his own life, his wife's as well others' by driving in his condition. I offered to take him home but he declined again as nobody will drive his car back. Wallking unsteadily to meet his wife on the first floor, I sat watching him and my tears threatened to flow down. I could only tell him to go and have breakfast first, find a chair and rest until he is ready. In my head, I planned to talk to him again and worked out on how to solve his car problem so that I can take him home. Waiting for my medication took some time. By that time, I could't find him in the crowd. I prayed that he is OK and were able to drive home savely. I hope he did. I am sure he did.

I don't know how to express my feeling actually - a deep sadness and sympathy for old people who have to fend for themselves in their old age. My spirit was down for a while, thinking will I be like him one day? I pray that my children will have more sense. Presently I am independent and I dislike asking them for help. I feel hurt when they give me excuses. So doing everything on my own saves me the heartache and disappointment. But what will happen when I become dependent not through my choice? Only time will tell.

I was a young busy career woman, wife and mother once. Now, I have never stopped wishing that I was kinder and more attentive to my parents when they were alive. Alfatihah.

So, for those young people out there, it doesn't take much to make your parents happy. Just remember ' Syurga di bawah telapak kaki ibu.'

Lucky are the parents whose children are devoted to them.