Where have I been for the past 60 years? What have I accomplished? Have I made a difference to anyone’s life? It saddens me to think that the world would not be any different if I were never born. And there no chance of changing that because I have become wrinkled, decrepit, and unable to do much physical activity. Sometimes I wish I had lived my life to the fullest when I was able to. I wish I would have traveled, would have laughed, would have just opened my eyes more than I did.
The other day I was walking in the park – I try to at least once a week – and I saw two little boys sitting under the shade of a tree. They were board as hell because nothing good was on television at that time. How I wished I could have been them. How I wish I could have climbed that tree and view life from an angle which has never been viewed before. How I wish I could walk through that park without taking a damned Aleve!
I remember the day long past. Those bygone days. To think of them sends a shiver down my spine. Going to school with a sack-lunch prepared by my mother. Playing with my friends on the weekend for hours and hours. Every night the family gathered round the dinner table and found solace in each other, even if the day events were horribly life-changing. Though we don’t give much regard to these moments, they are what one who is my age misses the most. Now, time has killed my parents and job opportunities have separated me from my children.
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Sometimes I stare at my uselessness in the mirror. I look at my handful of pills -which I must take daily to survive – and I wonder; is it worth it to live off of some machine made supplement? Stanley Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey” claims that it is not wise to become so dependent on man-made objects or tools.
So what is it that keeps me going everyday? Why don’t I just kill myself? If I die, my memories – though they are few – will die with me.
I remember growing up always looking forward to my grandparents stories. Even thought they were of average events that occur with average people, they use to make me proud . It felt as if I knew someone from a history book who overcame the odds and inspired thousands of people; like Rosa Parks staying on that bus and starting a boycott. The last words my grandmother passed onto was to keep your memories. Put them in a mason jar to save and one day they will serve their purpose. It took me sixty year to realize that purpose. On that day of comprehension I received a phone call. It was a voice I had never heard before; not because I didn’t know who that person was, but because hitherto I didn’t know that person could talk. The first words I heard my grandson say were, “Grandpa, I love you.”