CRANKY OLD MAN

Scann ing through my computer, trying to restore some order, I came across this piece written by an old man who died in a US nursing home. It touched me very deeply and I thought I would republish it here for my readers.

Cranky Old Man

What do you see, nurses? What do you see? What are you thinking when you’re looking at me? A cranky old man not very wise, uncertain of habit with faraway eyes? Who dribbles his food and makes no reply when you say in a loud voice “I do wish you’d try!” Who seems not to notice the things that you do and forever is losing a sock or a shoe? Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will, with bathing and feeding the long day to fill? Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see? Then open your eyes, nurse, you’re not looking at me. I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still, as I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will. I’m a small child of Ten with a father and mother, brothers and sisters who love one another. A young boy of Sixteen with wings on his feet dreaming that soon now a lover he’ll meet. A groom soon at Twenty, my heart gives a leap remembering the vows that I promised to keep. At Twenty-Five, now I have young of my own who need me to guide, and a secure, happy home. A man of Thirty, my young now grown fast, bound to each other with ties that should last. At Forty, my young sons have grown and are gone, but my woman is beside me to see I don’t mourn. At Fifty, once more, babies play ‘round my knee. Again, we know children, my loved one and me. Dark days are upon me, my wife is now dead. I look at the future, I shudder with dread. For my young are all rearing young of their own and I think of the years and the love that I’ve known. I’m now an old man and nature is cruel. It’s jest to make old age look like a fool. The body, it crumbles; grace and vigor, depart. There is now a stone where I once had a heart. But inside this old carcass a young man still dwells, and now and again my battered heart swells. I remember the joys, I remember the pain and I’m loving and living life over again. I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast and accept the stark fact that nothing can last. So open your eyes, people, open and see. Not a cranky old man Look closer ... see ... ME!!

It goes on: “Remember this poem the next time you come across an older person, especially if you’re likely to brush them aside. There’s a lifetime of experience inside that body. Take the time to say hi! Listen to a story, you may be surprised at what you hear. Remember growing older is a privilege denied to many. If we’re lucky, we’ll have a long and full life, one with stories worth sharing. The best and most beautiful things of this world can’t be seen or touched. They must be felt by the heart!

“They must be felt by the heart!” That sentence captured my full attention. As I have grown older I have realized how important it is to feel. Feel pride at the news that a grandson was awarded a scholarship. Feel irritation when someone refuses to use a new broom because it sheds bristles when the broom she uses has shed almost all its bristles.

I feel a lifting when I suddenly see in the dark sky a bright smile. New moon, my heart whispers. I watch night after night as the moon grows full, noticing in the early light of day how high and white it still is in the sky. The little gestures of nature fill me with wonder still.

I sense the thick richness of memory when I sing of love, even if my voice cracks or I forget words. Friends forgive lapses, laughter, lack, love — all the “L” words, all words I use, misuse, or forget.

As I grow older I realize our soul’s need for love, not only for other people but for the world around us, the divinity beyond us. I fail to understand the lack of love that drives politics, crime, the religious wars we have today. As useless as the question feels, I am forced to ask: how do we teach people to love more, to not hold back, to see that every life has a precious story to tell, like the cranky old man’s life that no one asked about because, unfortunately, the nurses were trained to serve but not trained to love their cranky old patients. How do we learn to love more? *** Please text your comments to 0998-9912287.