My accomplishment of the year is a pouf of white hair on top of my head. No, it wasn’t as fearless a decision as you may think. Just that one day, I combed my hair the opposite direction and found that, underneath the assortment of gray, blond and red streaks, it had turned white. Like spun sugar. I was beginning to look like my mother, but never mind.
I parted my hair in the middle to show the snow even more and tucked the rest away with pats of my grandson’s Gatsby Hair Wax to make it stay in place.
What a relief to let go. No longer do I have to be watchful about preserving my professionally applied tint for still another week to delay a parlor visit. I have no more qualms about daily shampooing to wash out the color.
My longtime hairstylist, Rene Huelgas, encouraged the process. Even if it meant I’d visit him less and less, and only for a hair trim. We’ve gone a long way. I love Rene.
No conditions
Why do you think people get cranky when they grow old? Because most of the time they don’t feel so well!
Old people (except maybe the wealthy) also worry that there won’t be enough money for the rest of their existence, no matter how much they have saved or been provided for.
I don’t like a long life. I don’t like people asking, “What? You mean she’s still alive?” I like to be dead when I’m expected to be dead.
Once upon a time my friends and I believed that one could will oneself to die. But I soon enough realized you could go only if you had no conditions about your departure. Because we say, I’m ready to die, but please don’t let me be hit by lightning, or be run over by a bus, or be parked in the ICU for the rest of my life. You’re just gonna go on living.
When you get old, you feel like a lost, orphaned child who feels she doesn’t belong anywhere. Everyone wants to take you along on a vacation with some son or daughter wanting to pay for your and your yaya’s fare. Even to Hong Kong, or Thailand or further. But you are suddenly overcome with anxiety.
I’ve never been adventurous. I will only have a difficult time adjusting to having no more husband to sleep beside in a strange hotel, even if the bed is softer and more beautiful than mine.
Plus, I need to bring my herbal meds, my vegetable juicer, my potty, a few books, the article I didn’t finish, my pillow, my cat. If it becomes too cold, I may not enjoy myself, but I can’t be a KJ. At home I’m fine—but not really.
Cold rice
Yesterday my son and his family left the compound to eat out (or was it to go to a party?) They didn’t invite me so I ate cold rice and pork and beans, feeling like a cake left out in the rain. I’ve always dreamt of living alone—but maybe not so alone.
Even when you’re surrounded by loved ones, it’s still like being alone. Their conversation is beyond you. Your sons compare exotic cuisine they’ve tried in restaurants all over the world. Their children talk about things in a just as unfamiliar cyberworld. The younger ones talk about girls.
Sometimes they take pains to draw you in their conversations, but they may as well be speaking Swahili.
What I don’t mind about old age, though, is being forgetful. Everything you see is new again. What do you mean that building has always been there? It’s the first time I’ve seen it.
Where is the elevator? Why do they move it all the time! “Lo-lah, why you want to try on that pair of shoes again? You just brought one yesterday, same style, same color.” I did? So where is it?
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I have recently changed my style of praying. No more routine Our Father, Hail Mary or Act of Contrition. Instead, I review my day and remember what I have to be thankful for. And it isn’t only good things, but also not-so-good ones that I want to be grateful for. Because I learn something every day.
For instance, I was able to understand the behavior of a lapsed friend who had often irritated me. I realized that she was a person who never believes that she is ever anything but perfect. No one is more intelligent, more stylish, raised a better family, has higher moral standards. Once you understand that, you can accept her. Not necessarily like her better, but you can work with it, around it. Accept.
Esther Pacheco, an incorrigible passer-on of quotes, sent this latest to me: “We are the re-invented generation, the re-wired, re-tired, seasoned citizens getting over the hill in order to speed up again.” Honestly, just reading that quote makes me feel so tired. Will be happy to stay behind.
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Nota bene: I am losing hope in the Catholic clergy. Aside from claiming that meditation invites the devil in, the faithful are now being urged to wear “Huwag Kang Magnakaw” shirts at the start of simbang gabi. What ill thought-out advice! Not only is it insulting to whoever reads it, would it daunt any real magnanakaw? Pointless and not even witty. Father forgive me if I have sinned, just my humble opinion.
