Old Is Not Always Gold
Have you seen defeat in the eyes of the old? I have seen acceptance of exclusion as a way of life among older people.
As I looked deeper, I found wisdom, lost love stories, pain, resignation. A stoic resolve for life and its realities. A lost pride in them, where vulnerability is like an open wound.
When old people are alone they often have a faraway look. In those eyes are the saddest stories of their lives.
We live in an ageist society and most grow old grudgingly.
It is in the face the constant bombardment of advertisements with nubile, agile people.
So old folks camouflage the aching knees, the grey hair and the dimming eyes.
I have met old folks with broken bodies and ailing body parts. They are like the unused, dust-filled mannequins, all lying in a heap on the side of the store. In that store there is a sale of glam and glitter for young bodies with dismembered minds. Here too they are reminded that they don’t belong.
In the flesh and blood of an older person, I can smell the stench of disobedience. It’s like a war, where the body is in denial for the cohabitation with the young mind.
The mind holds on with its unmet wishes, wanting to continue this macabre dance.
In hospitals you find old people trying hard, pushing the finishing line a little bit more.
In old decaying hearts are thwarted dreams and eyes that express the wishes for another chance, another better day.
As I look deep in the eyes and at the dilated pupils. There is a smile that says, “ let me stay a little longer, I still got to live life a little bit more.”
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