Age Isn’t Just A Number | By Naomi Khoo
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| Illustration by Charmaine, Naddina, Michelle, and Janice. |
I used to learn the piano. Back then, it was such a privilege. It still is a privilege—don’t get me wrong. Well, my grandson seems to think otherwise. Anyway, where was I again? Ah yes, those black and white keys, so much friendlier than the “Ctrl” and “Fn” keys on the computer laptop my children gifted me. *frustrated sounds* All these terms make an old lady like me feel like I’m back in my Primary 1 schooling days. The tablet (not those dreadful high blood pressure meds) is comparatively easier but really, I’m only familiar with Talking Tom (sadly my granddaughter informed me that he’s not popular anymore in our last WhatsApp video call). *sighs* Our last video call... The youngsters have all been busy with their online classes and jobs. I mean—I was fine with them living thousands of kilometers away until COVID came. Back then, I could at least look forward to grocery shopping, picnics at the park with some friends and their annual visit during the school holidays.
Math was my best subject all the way up to Form Six, so counting the days spent tending to our vegetable garden and trying to recreate Ang Ku Kueh (the taste of childhood!) was a breeze. Day 235 as of today. Thank God for the occasional breathers in between. My mind loves me for busying myself with weeding and fertilising, but not so my back. *grimaces* Oh, how it aches if I stay in the same position for too long! I wasn’t exactly a sporty person back then but at least I could hunch like a prawn over my Sejarah textbook for 12 hours straight without any complications occurring. Or maybe that’s the reason it hurts now. *chuckles* I can hear my sister chastising me for my unlady-like posture. “Sue, Sue—I sure won’t be the one taking care of you if no man wants you.” Well, I’m happily married to Ming, with a total of three kids and 2 grandchildren. Hah! So there! There. Yes, you’re...somewhere...there... Oh Susie, why did you have to leave us like that… I tightened my grip around the ceramic mug steaming with hot Milo as I felt my stomach clench.
You passed away last summer: 20 days short of Christmas. I didn’t get to make that visit I promised you. Oh Susie...how lonely were your last few moments as your heart failed you and left you sprawled over the icy cold tiles. With no one around to help, no strength to even call for help. I tried to cheer you up over the phone, but you sounded so unhappy. I wish I hadn’t dismissed your grumbles of being unable to play Mahjong with your neighbours by calling you an ungrateful old lady. I had no idea what it felt to be cooped up at home, all alone, with no one to talk to and nothing to do. For the first few years after your Tim passed, life was still manageable—wake up, nurse uniform, hospital, sleep, repeat. But loneliness must have gnawed its way into the crevices of your heart after retirement, day by day. Your friends were good friends, but they had families of their own, children to bicker with, grandchildren to cuddle. I yearned to visit you and spoil you like my sister should be spoiled. But Singapore is a 7-hour flight away from Melbourne, and with those two falls that left my right arm in a cast and tailbone in pain, I really couldn’t make the trip.
Tears pricked my eyes—or was it the hot steam? I hurriedly wiped them away. Jon would be worried if he saw me in such a state again. Again—because I hadn’t been able to control my tears for the first few weeks after Susie’s death. It was a miracle that her front door was left open as she busied herself, packing home cooked curry for some neighbours. They found her lifeless body there soon after. Even in her last moments, she was still blessing and caring for those around her. My sister, an angel. Ming, yet another angel. I don’t know how I would have fared with ageing without my loving husband by my side. At least I had someone to joke around and do grocery runs with.
News of the passing of people I grew up with has increased ever since I hit the age of 70. I’ll be turning 80 this year but it sort of feels like I’m eight instead, you know? I find that the difficulty level has somehow increased for some of the most mundane tasks. More time and energy is required of me. I tend to get frustrated easily. I’ve always maintained a healthy diet but somehow found myself well acquainted with my doctor these few years. Truth be told, I stress over my ageing more so because I dread becoming a burden to my loved ones as opposed to losing my youth.
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| Photo by Trinity Wong. |
I’m sorry. I try not to be a bother, but it seems like the more I try, the more I fail. My hearing may not be as good as before, but I can sense how even the daily dinner calls burden my busy family. The occasional awkward silence and small chat about the weather is agonizing. So I try to bring up fond memories. But with my failing memory, I lose count of which stories I’ve told. I know how repeated narration of an incident makes one yawn in boredom, because I experienced that with my own senile grandmother. Forgive me if I bring up a memory too often and still find it funny each time. I try not to be like my grandmother, but it’s hard. I just want to hear your voices.
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| Photo by Trinity Wong. |
I know, people have always told me how privileged I am compared to a lot of other elders, enjoying benefits as a senior citizen in Melbourne (wow!) and living the “life”. Don’t get me wrong, I’m truly grateful for being able to live with one of my children, feed Ming and Jules’ tummies and have a roof over my head. But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss home—the small town I grew up in, the family scattered over the globe, the tropical fruits. There’s something about interaction, even through WhatsApp stickers, that fills this old heart of mine. It’s the fuel for me to continue making the best of my last days on earth. I really don’t need a huge TV for me to watch shows on when I’m “bored”. Neither do I need huge packets of herbs which are meant to lengthen my life. Honey, all I truly need is companionship.
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| Photo by Trinity Wong. |
Ageing is a hard process because it somehow makes one feel useless, unwanted even. The world doesn’t seem as welcoming as it did when I was fresh out of university. But I hope you understand that this is a stage of life everyone experiences. It is normal when the reason behind a lot of things changes from “I don’t want” to “I can’t”. Reach out to the elderly who have to fend for themselves. Spend time, be it physically or virtually, with the elders around you. Treasure us, while you still have the chance.
1 comments
love this! very touching indeed
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