I had heard it before that some experiences change you quietly. They don’t yell, they don’t demand attention, yet they stay with you, long after the moment has passed. My visit to Maria’s Home for the Aged was one of those experiences.
I had spent a couple of hours today with 48 spirited, wise, and deeply resilient residents in their humble abode. Each one of them with a lifetime of stories, memories, and lessons to share. Their smiles welcomed us, their stories humbled us, and their presence reminded us of something we often forget: WHY WE DO WHAT WE DO.
Listening with the Heart
It’s true, there’s something profound about simply slowing down and listening. In the din and bustle of our busy lives, we often forget that very corner of our heart that is yearning to give, to build connection, to listen to people to help them, not necessarily with grand gestures, but with small acts that reaches their heart.
Today, while talking to them, I didn’t hear stories, I felt them. Becoz it came out straight from their heart and touched mine. Stories of Army life, stories before smartphones drowned us, and stories of love and betrayal. There were genuine and contagious. And yes, a warm, comforting cup of tea that somehow made the conversations even more meaningful. I bid adieu to the lovely people with a promise to visit them soon.
WHY DO WE EVEN HAVE OLD AGE HOMES?
After coming back, I couldn’t shake off this question that’s been circling in my mind ever since.
Why is it that the very people who gave their entire lives caring for us, protecting us, raising us end up in care homes, away from their own families? Have we really become so self-absorbed, so caught up in our own ambitions and routines, that we forget the very people who sacrificed everything so that we could become who we are?
It’s an uncomfortable question. But it needs to be asked. And it needs an answer.
For me it’s an irony though a painful one, that in many of these homes, our parents, our own blood, are cared for with tenderness and love by people who have no biological relation to them. And often, the care these strangers provide surpasses the love and attention we give to our own parents.
And that, to me, is what defines a real human, not biology, not blood, but compassion in action.
My Deep Gratitude
To the caregivers and staff at Maria’s, your love, patience, and unwavering commitment to your residents is something truly sacred. You’ve created a space that radiates dignity, warmth, and grace and for that, Serenity4Seniors thanks you.
To the residents, thank you for your stories, your resilience, and your ability to still love so openly, despite everything. You’ve taught me more in a day than most classrooms could in years.
My Silent Promise
As I walked away that day, I carried with me more than memories. I carried a silent promise:
To do better.
To be more present.
To value the people who matter, while they’re still around to be valued.
Because aging isn’t a tragedy. But neglecting those who age, that is.
Let’s not wait until it’s too late to say the words that matter or to offer the care that’s needed. Let’s not allow strangers to love our parents more than we do.