beautiful old age...not
as DH Lawrence once cynically expressed in a poem of that very title, demystifying everything possibly romantic about one's golden years. and that's another reason i don't want to live beyond 60.
as i returned home from dinner with the kids last night we got in the lift with my neighbour who lives 4 doors down. i haven't seen him in months, let alone heard a peep from his annoyingly yappy chihuahua. he never went anywhere without it and i could always see him gingerly cradling it when he went on his evening strolls. then it occured to us that the dog must've passed away. and he must've been possibly grieving in silence, not leaving his home for days. it was his only companion as we never saw family visit.
my next door neighbour is in her 80s. she has family visit but perhaps sporadically and during festive occasions. once she napped through a burning pot and i had to knock on her door frantically when i could smell the charred fumes from my home. after that i asked for her daughter's hp number in case of emergencies.
it's terrible to live alone in your twilight years in our country. it's unlike the 'golden girls' ideal we watched growing up where you have independently-fulfilling lives sans the commitment to grandkids etc. but in our environment of predominant urban desolation borne of our cookie-cutter housing, no one seems to take notice of the other until something dramatically tragic occurs. it's a mortifying thought to die alone only to have your festering remains waft through the corridors days later. i see an ambulance come by every other week where i live. the average age of residents here is 55. a wake is held at least twice a month. many of them lived alone. sometimes i think longevity is more of a curse in this part of the world, especially when we've become too obsessed with our vanity of human wishes to give a toss about the decrepit and weak.
as i returned home from dinner with the kids last night we got in the lift with my neighbour who lives 4 doors down. i haven't seen him in months, let alone heard a peep from his annoyingly yappy chihuahua. he never went anywhere without it and i could always see him gingerly cradling it when he went on his evening strolls. then it occured to us that the dog must've passed away. and he must've been possibly grieving in silence, not leaving his home for days. it was his only companion as we never saw family visit.
my next door neighbour is in her 80s. she has family visit but perhaps sporadically and during festive occasions. once she napped through a burning pot and i had to knock on her door frantically when i could smell the charred fumes from my home. after that i asked for her daughter's hp number in case of emergencies.
it's terrible to live alone in your twilight years in our country. it's unlike the 'golden girls' ideal we watched growing up where you have independently-fulfilling lives sans the commitment to grandkids etc. but in our environment of predominant urban desolation borne of our cookie-cutter housing, no one seems to take notice of the other until something dramatically tragic occurs. it's a mortifying thought to die alone only to have your festering remains waft through the corridors days later. i see an ambulance come by every other week where i live. the average age of residents here is 55. a wake is held at least twice a month. many of them lived alone. sometimes i think longevity is more of a curse in this part of the world, especially when we've become too obsessed with our vanity of human wishes to give a toss about the decrepit and weak.