“Do you know what is the hardest part of getting older is?”
“It’s becoming invisible. When you’re young, you’re still somebody: attractive, fun, charismatic, strong… at the very least, noticeable. But then all that fades. And suddenly you’re just ‘that old man in a worn-out jacket’ or ‘that grandma in a beret and an old sweater.’ It feels like you don’t even exist anymore. Like you’ve turned transparent.”
“But you know what? I noticed you the second you walked into the room…”
That line comes from a well-known British TV series. Sadly, it rings true.
Too often, the only thing people see in an older person is their age. No one says, “she used to be a language teacher,” or “he was an engineer.” Instead, it’s: “she’s over 80,” or “he must be pushing ninety.” Over the years, the number of people who actually know your story—who you were, what you loved, what you were good at—shrinks. Friends pass away. Some can’t leave the house anymore. They move so slowly that the only trip outside might be to grab a loaf of bread from the corner store.
Meanwhile, kids are wrapped up in their own pace, their own struggles. Sometimes they call. Even more rarely, they stop by. In the building, there are new neighbors—young parents with strollers, dads juggling grocery bags. Nobody even knows the name of the elderly lady on the second floor. The corner store has new clerks. No familiar faces left. At best, people know your apartment number and your approximate age. What’s behind those doors? Nobody cares. And that’s how emptiness sets in.
We wonder why Mom calls ten times a day with “trivial” things. Why Dad repeats the same question again and again. The truth is, they’re just afraid of being forgotten. They want to be noticed. To be heard. Even if it’s only over the phone. Because aging isn’t just about adding years—it’s about invisibility. It’s about loneliness. It’s about the deep need to still matter to someone.
Don’t wait until it’s too late. Call. Stop by. Ask how their day went. For you, it’s a minute. For them, it’s the whole world. Sometimes, a simple “I remember you” is enough to make someone feel alive again—seen, valued, not forgotten.
Meanwhile, Dinah and I had Dinner at the Filipino Restaurant in Pleasant Hill, Isla Grande, Labor Day, yesterday. Here's what we ordered. There were plenty of leftovers for my dining pleasure in the next couple of weeks.
Boneless Bangus ( milk fish ) Singing
Lumpia Shanghai and Chili Sauce as our Appetizer. All you can eat steamed rice is included at no extra cost with the four dishes.
For Details visit: isla grande pleasant hill
Lastly, looking forward to the Lunch Excursion at FOB this Thursday. If you want to join me ( I need 3 diners) To Share ( Dining Filipino style ) with 4 dishes, including Mango Ice tea and Dessert, Please let me know. I posted the approximate cost ( $38 each including tips) and dishes in my article below. Otherwise you can order Western style ( No Sharing). However, may I remind you that Filipino Food is best when Shared.
2 comments:
I will share with you, David. Andi
David, I think it's true that we older folks can feel that what people see in us is our age and that the attributes of our younger years fade away. That is not how I feel about myself, and I think a huge part of that is the joy I feel in living here at THD and truly continuing to be myself. In fact, I feel rejuvenated living where Carol and I do! John Larimore
Post a Comment