My nana's biggest fear was being unable to look after herself and succumbing to pressure to leave her sheltered accommodation (where she was fairly independent) to move into a retirement home. She had all her mental faculties right up to the end and spent her days reading and educating herself. I witnessed her frustration and vulnerablity as her physical health started to deteriorate, up to the point where her small appartment became her whole world. Despite the indignity and pain of losing her mobility, she rarely complained and was graceful right to the end. I remember her as an intelligent, strong, generous and charitable woman who loved to help others worse off than herself and who had a thirst for knowledge and life. When asking her one day - what was the most difficult thing about ageing, she replied that the most difficult thing about growing old, was witnessing your closest family and friends passing on, one by one. Death becomes a normal part of life and she said it was important to be able to let go of all those attachments with a sense of love and maturity.
When pondering of my own older age, I wonder whether I will spend my time with my grandchildren and friends sipping tea and telling stories or whether I would travel the world commemorating my life into the words that I write and the pictures that I take. Maybe I would pass away on a mountain in some far flung place. Who knows what the future may hold? But the internet and all that is beholden gives older people today the option of communication and connection, and that is an invaluable tool to a quality of life beyond any physical limitation.
Origami
She sits in the corner
With gnarled, papery fingers,
Folding clean, crisp sheets into shapes.
On closer inspection, she works with consistent
fervour at her task.
Her back is crooked and folds forward,
As if she hasn't seen the stars in years;
But her hands are elegant and have the grace of
somebody half her age.
Perfect, blanched animals,
Winking in the sunlight.
Oblivious to their fate.
As the sun works its way round,
Her eyes half lidded from fatigue,
Hang heavy in their resting place.
She snoozes and time ticks on,
without purpose.
The paper creations swept uncaringly into the bin;
Another day passes.
Lily Basnet
When pondering of my own older age, I wonder whether I will spend my time with my grandchildren and friends sipping tea and telling stories or whether I would travel the world commemorating my life into the words that I write and the pictures that I take. Maybe I would pass away on a mountain in some far flung place. Who knows what the future may hold? But the internet and all that is beholden gives older people today the option of communication and connection, and that is an invaluable tool to a quality of life beyond any physical limitation.
Origami
She sits in the corner
With gnarled, papery fingers,
Folding clean, crisp sheets into shapes.
On closer inspection, she works with consistent
fervour at her task.
Her back is crooked and folds forward,
As if she hasn't seen the stars in years;
But her hands are elegant and have the grace of
somebody half her age.
Perfect, blanched animals,
Winking in the sunlight.
Oblivious to their fate.
As the sun works its way round,
Her eyes half lidded from fatigue,
Hang heavy in their resting place.
She snoozes and time ticks on,
without purpose.
The paper creations swept uncaringly into the bin;
Another day passes.
Lily Basnet
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