When most people walk along the streets,and they see the
elderly strolling on by.We don’t stop to think about how old they are.To some
people,they are a burden,to me,they represent an age old tree who has weathered
storms,survived through different phases and their lives are a testament to
.They are like a closed book,we do not know them until we read deep into their
lives and realize what struggles they have overcome.Strolling by,with their
passé flowered two piece silk emsemble,withering chrome hair and with each
wrinkles giving a testament to the different phases of their lives.My heart
breaks to see them being treated as a liability to society.They are a closed
book waiting to be read,in passiveness wanting to share their story.But do we
give them a chance? We shun them,we mock them,we ignore them.However,we will
never be able to fully know their lives,and because of that,society’s a dumb
bitch.Why don’t WE? I WANT TO LOOK AT THEM AS TREASURES.THEY ARE OUR PAST,and
they are the ones who carved our present,and for us,we’ll be old one day,
carving the future and it goes on and on,a vicious cycle.
My grandmother died 4 years ago, in 2007. I knew that I did not appreciate her
hardwork until the day she passed away. She took care of me and my brother, cooked for us, cleaned up after us... She was really the best. But when I look back at it, I feel that I did not treat her like I should have. I always wanted to be alone in a room and I locked the doors and when she wanted to enter I did not let her, even though it was her house. I wished she was still alive...