Where Have All The Years Gone?

Where once my legs could pedal furiously on a racing bike with my friends, streaking around the tracks in the stadium, today I pedal on a stationary bike for only ten minutes at the most and only sometimes.

Where once it was not a problem to traverse across oceans wide, today flying seven hours is hardship.

Where are the days and energy of youth?  Somehow, along the way, time has taken its toll, not only on the physical body, but also on the mind. 

Forgetfulness is now a constant companion. Misplacing things or forgetting where I’ve kept them and even forgetting what I have, altogether, makes me wonder how this came to be.

Someone said that undergoing general anesthesia kills brain cells and if that’s true, then it’s no wonder, having undergone numerous surgeries to resolve life threatening issues.

Bragging rights?  Yes, three lovely grandchildren, two boys and a girl but none staying in the same country.  Some books in amazon.com which gave me hours of pleasure when creating the stories and poems.  Plus English grammar books, trying to do my bit in halting the slide into more and more atrocious English usage by younger Malaysians today.

Time has flown by, stolen by and now I read obituaries.  I see friends who have departed. No wonder that a group of my classmates has decided that we should meet up more often if we can get away from grandma duties, etc., for the day will come when the group will dwindle and cease to exist.

It is saddening when friends, especially good friends pass on and one only gets to know through the obits. Sometimes there are no obits, only through word of mouth. Then one wishes and regrets.  “If only….” Very sad words.

It is now a time of waiting and wondering, when, how?

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Is Everything Cyclical?

I wonder if it is.  Let’s sit back and look at our lives. 

Babies are born, reared, nurtured and educated.  They become adults and step out into the working world where they build their careers and get married.  They begin to raise their own families and the cycle begins again.

When young adults begin working, they save their money to buy a home.  It is small to begin with and as they make more money, their homes become bigger and bigger. 

At first they drive small cars which they can afford and then progress to bigger cars.

 Then when the children are grown and leave home, they move out of their large homes and opt for smaller ones, more often than not, for apartments which are easier to maintain and there are no gardens to toil over.

The Young Adults

I think all life is cyclical, whether human or animal.  There is birth, growth and then everything comes to an end with death. So a human being is born, grows into an adult, ages and then dies either of disease or other causes.  The new generation replaces the old one and so on.

The Old Generation

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Pokes to Remind Us Not To Forget Our Aging Mums And Dads

Just over a year ago I posted a blog on the abandonment of the very young and the very old. To date there have been reminders popping up on Facebook that we ought to make time for our old folks for whom time is fast running out.

Caught up in the daily grind of work and taking care of children, we are too busy to spare a thought for our parents who are aging with each passing day.  Sometimes we even forget about them.

One poignant post and image on Facebook shows an elderly man asking the phone repair man what was wrong with his phone.  The reply was that there was nothing wrong with the phone and the old man asks a question, “Then why don’t my children call?”

Another post reminds us to call and speak to our old folks because someday there will only be empty chairs when we want to speak with them and it will be too late for regrets.

Sometimes it’s not possible to visit because of geography but the telephone is always there and with gadgets, it is always easy to skype or Facetime.  So there’s no excuse really not to call and say “Hi, how are you today?”

If geography is not a problem why not make it a weekend visit or a fortnightly one?  Some have come up and said, “But it’s family time!!”

Well, aren’t your old folks family anymore?  Or are they merely looked upon as back-ups when you have problems with maids? Then only do you remember them and send an SOS to which they promptly respond, for no matter how old they are, feeble or not, they still consider you their children no matter how old and much married you are and they will always be there for you.

Will you be there for them?  Communicating with them, visiting them, taking them with you when you take your family on holiday???

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Death Comes Like a Thief in the Night

The signs are there.  My sister is dying before our eyes.  From a healthy, beautiful, young woman, she has shrunk into a wizened person, her bones showing beneath her thin skin.  All the muscles have been cannibalized by the cancer that has invaded her body.

Day by day she shrivels.  Her lovely features are now gaunt, her eyes sunken and dull with pain.  Her lovely hair is all gone.  It is a matter of time, we know and we wait. Yet when the moment comes and death takes her, and takes us by surprise, it is still a great shock.

Though we are happy that she is released from her prison of pain, we are saddened and pained by her departure. Below is my poem in memory of my sister.

               Death  Watch  

Your lids flutter open, then shut,
Beneath the lids, movements signal
You are aware, though disabled.
All around you, anxiously anticipating your needs,
Wanting to alleviate your discomfort.
Your lids flutter open, you gasp,
Trying to cough up the phlegm,
Thick clotted cream finally expelled, by no means all.
Helpless, we watch you sinking by the hour,
Shrouded in drug fog.
Our pain grows and thickens,
The pregnant silence sliced by your gasps for breath.
Tears well into rivulets running down our cheeks,
As each, torn, wanting you in our midst still,
Yet desiring your release,
Secretly battles with the whys and the why nots;
Needing to understand why,
When a sibling comes to this end.
The unnecessary suffering, the brutality of it all.
A tear slides down your hollow cheek, a final rattle of leave taking.
You are gone but remain cherished in our hearts.
The un-understanding remains;
A niggle still, or rationalized away, by the pastor or the priest.,
Meanwhile with bated breath we wait,

Will it be down the same road?

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