Four years ago today we celebrated what would be my grandmother’s last birthday – her 95th. Twenty-three days later it was my name she called out when she took her final breath.
There’s a certain kind of determination that the elderly exude. And it’s something you can only observe from their movements, their choices, and their intentions. They’ve seen life, death and everything in between yet their optimism continues to survive.
As for grandparents, they are like parents… but they’re friends too. They keep your secrets, offer the best advice, and teach you how to never let your guard down. They have a pretty good sense of judgement when it comes to character, and have a talent for renewing your faith when it feels like the world has failed you. The size of your problem is never questioned – the fact that you’re upset calls for their undivided attention.
So when I was forced to part ways with my first best friend, I soon had to learn to accept that I will never know what she wanted to say in that moment.
In each elderly person’s eyes I see my grandmother, and I’m compelled to help where I can… it’s like a silent pull, and I can almost feel my grandmother’s nod of approval.