Today, and by the law of life, our parents reach or will reach very advanced ages, which implies a deterioration that requires protection and care of the elderly, which requires special attention and reflection.
That is why we say that we all become the fathers of our parents at the time of their death, because we must embrace them, nourish them, caress them with the words of the soul and with our affection. We become the cane of your soul, when we remember, through our love, the love they have given us all our lives.
- It is common to view old age and the last stage of life in a negative way.
- However.
- There are several reasons why we think that it is a great step and.
- In addition.
- Essential to face grief.
To share this moment with our parents or grandparents is to share a need for affection that, in a way, also symbolizes the beginning of the farewell, means to support something that made us grow and gave us life with the same force with which we said goodbye. .
When at some point I lose the memory or thread of our conversation, give me time to remember, when I can’t eat alone, I can’t control my sphincter or I can’t get up, help me patiently.
Don’t despair because I’m older and I’m suffering, don’t be ashamed of me. Help me on the street, breathe fresh air, contemplate sunlight, don’t get impatient because I walk slowly, don’t get exasperated if I scream, cry or get bored of past or present battles.
Remember the time I spent teaching you to do what I now need you to teach me, I have a new mission in the family, so I ask you not to miss the opportunity offered to us, love me when I’m older because I’m still me, even combing my money.
To reflect on the role of children in the old age of their parents, Fabricio Carpinejar presented us with a wonderful text that can enlighten us in a scenario not always illuminated, it is difficult to feel good, because we cannot forget that old age implies a farewell to the life that taught us to speak, to grow, to take the spoon and to walk.
“There is a rupture in family history, where ages accumulate and overlap and natural order makes no sense: that’s when the son becomes his father’s father.
It’s when the father gets old and starts jogging like he’s in the fog. Slow, slow, vague. That’s when one of the parents who took your hand when you were little no longer wants to be alone, that’s when the father, once firm and insurmountable, weakens and takes air twice before getting out of his place.
It is when the father, who had ever ordered and given orders, today only sighs, only moans, and looks for where are the door and window that now seem so distant. It’s when a parent, formerly in a good mood and worker, doesn’t wear their own clothes and doesn’t remember their medication.
And we, as children, will only accept that we are responsible for this life. This life that gave us life now depends on us to die in peace.
Every son is the father of his father’s death. Perhaps the old age of the father and mother is curiously the last pregnancy. Our last teaching. An opportunity to restore the love and love they have given us for decades.
And just as we have adapted our house to care for our babies, blocking power outlets and setting up playgrounds, now we are going to change the distribution of furniture for our parents, the first transformation takes place in the bathroom. It will be our parents’ parents who will now put support bars in the shower.
The bar is iconic. The bar is symbolic. Because the shower, simple and refreshing, is now a storm for the old feet of our protectors, we can’t leave them alone for a moment. The house of those who care for their parents will have handrails on the walls and our arms will extend in the form of parapets.
Aging means walking while holding objects, getting old even means climbing stairs without walking. We’ll be strangers in our own homes.
We will observe every detail with fear and ignorance, with doubts and concerns. How could we not have predicted that our parents would get sick and need us?Sorry for the sofas, statues and spiral staircases We will regret all the obstacles and carpet.
Blessed is the son who is his father’s father before his death!He’s the poor son who only shows up at the funeral and doesn’t say goodbye every day.
My friend Joe accompanied his father until the last minutes. At the hospital, the nurse maneuvered her from bed to gurney, trying to change the sheets when Joe yelled from her seat: Let me help you.
He joined forces and hugged his father for the first time, put his father’s face against his chest, threw on his shoulders his father, who had been consumed by cancer: small, wrinkled, fragile, shaky.
She embraced him for a long time, the time equivalent to his childhood, the time equivalent to his adolescence, long time, an endless time. Feed your father back and forth. Caressing your father, appeasing your father. And he said quietly, “I’m here, I’m here, Dad!What a father wants to hear at the end of his life is that his son says he’s there?.
While caring for our parents can be exhausting, we must not forget that this sadness and tiredness are part of the pain we face, they are part of the farewell, of the farewell of the part of our soul, of our childhood.
With them he leaves everything that we do not share with anyone and that there will be no witnesses, certainly requires a lot of inner work that life offers us the opportunity to do, we cannot waste it.