I live with two single-blessed aunts in Sta. Ana, Manila. They are siblings of my father.

One is age 86; the other, 90. Despite their ages, they remain sharp-witted, selective and precise. Of course, there are the health problems usual to their age, but generally they do well, something we ought to dream of when we get to that point.

And Mama is now 82, while Papa, at 88, still lifts weights and makes it a point to have daily walking exercise. I used to be a full-time resident daughter in my parents’ house, until I moved to the old house of my grandparents, where my aunties reside.

Moving is not a neat arrangement for a person like me who runs her own life, juggles roles and is a confessed workaholic.

But that’s not the point!

Living with the “olds” was a daring decision for me. The benefits can be numerous. There are strings of privileges, comforts, especially measures that save me in tight financial situations.  It’s the olds who  bail me out when I’m up against the wall.

There’s a lot of sarcasm between two opposite poles governed by different traditions, with one embracing quick paces, the onset of technology, and anything edgy and trendy. There are clashes like the Balkans war—something, I think, time should alter.

Sometimes, though, stubborn acts by the olds can be bad for your health. Many around me ask how I survive the situation, and I always say, “Flow.” Easier to say than do. But honestly, don’t take them too seriously. Don’t get in their way. Just flow. Let it be known that this day shall pass, and another day will come.

It helps that I am feisty in appropriate ways. It helps that I am more issue- than personality-focused. And it helps that I mind myself first, and I don’t alter who I am.

Tender annihilation

Of course, there are myriad discussions between the olds and me. I sometimes wish I could cut my throat, so I’d stop yakking, or some spell is cast that could trigger tender annihilation—boom, and all misunderstandings must go.

But you can’t just walk away from the olds’ hankerings without being consumed by guilt.

And when you can’t simply slip away, to simmer down becomes a special calling. It is an art practiced with different modalities of patience. I have been learning this through the years, and I’m still learning.

My clashes with them are 10 times stronger than colossal egos clashing, something that could break your soul. But I still come home mindful of who has not eaten, and why just a spoonful was consumed. I call the salon and book their sessions of nail cleaning. I regularly check on their haircuts. I check one who has not changed her diaper, and I see to it that they eat on time.

Still, we clash. We love. We cherish the cereal breakfast. And I see in my eyes that love in this manner is patience. These are challenges met with understanding and tolerance.

Perhaps you yourself are in a quandary, unable to determine whether the olds back  home or yourself  should be the priority. Who comes first, and how do you weigh in?

When you feel like giving up, take the backseat—that’s the comfort zone. Change perspective. You have to rise above it to reassess; liberate yourself, even for only a few days. Recharge your energy. Detachment is in order, so you can claim later, “I have taken care of myself, too.”

Never blame the setup. Nature has ways of designing life patterns that are beneficial. Care-giving of the “olds” is one of my tasks, but I never complain about the rigor.

Drained

Several times it has drained me physically and mentally. It eats up your time and sometimes keeps you away from your own luxury. How far can you go on? Would you wholeheartedly share your time, your strength, with the “olds”? Have you asked yourself if you are willing to make long-term sacrifices?

Care-giving of the “olds” is an endurance test. Do you have enough patience? Do you know how committed you are, and the parameters of your responsibilities?

Caring is tantamount to saying, “forget the self.” I define this as “a supreme act of sacrifice.”  It’s Christian, in many ways, with spiritual grace awaiting those who were called to it. But how well can you cope? Where should you draw inspiration from?

Never doubt how much you can give them. Never do an audit of your acts. Just say, “My old people back home are the treasures of my origins. They are bridges across the generations. They are part of life courses that essentially look to the future, with core connections to the past.”

Caring for the old could be a series of battles, with no guarantee of compensation. Some reach old age with much resistance; while some are happy to reach it, others worry about passing away.

When this happens, remind yourself that God listens in many ways, and in caring, one gives decency back to lives that once nourished us.

That’s why I say, “Being grateful is the essence of care.”