When I grow up

– Don’t you have a sister? Many people have asked my husband when they see him in the care of his mother, who had cataract surgery two months ago in Santa Clara. At first he was offended by the hint, but then he decided to take it in a conciliatory spirit, and in order to show these people their fallacy of judgment, when they call him “kind, wonderful, generous” or some other exalting epithet, he answers: smiling that he is just a functional man, both in his role as a son and as a father and husband, not for lack of options, but because he was born, because he was raised this way by the woman whose recovery he now accompanies.

My mother-in-law is 80 years old, and without a hint of guataconeria, I always say that when I grow up I want to be like her: worked until I felt useful, cooks what she likes and suits her every day, she dresses like going to receive guests, she keeps a beautiful house for his own eyes, he watches novels without being attached to the TV, exercises his body, maintains a healthy curiosity about what he does not know, gives advice without being attached to the TV. gets himself in trouble, writes cute texts on his Facebook profile, laughs at the appearance of his two grown-up offspring, celebrates children, cats and dogs without nostalgia and enjoys their loneliness, like any other company.

She accepts her old age and enjoys it without closing her eyes. This is his secret of happiness. She sticks out her tongue in front of the mirrors and walks like on a catwalk, because life is a waltz and dancing it to the last chord is a luxury.

I would like all our old people to choose this attitude. Those of blood and those whom we love in transition. Even that “old man” inside who is waiting for you in a few years and judges in good conscience whether you are preparing his arrival in the best way, or whether you have spent all your energy on work and partying, not wanting to think about this inevitable moment. pass the baton, who knows with what balance of health and dignity.

What is the point in denying the nearness of the stage at which we will cease to be locomotives and take a carriage on the train of someone else’s life? The only way not to do this is to die young, and I don’t think that’s the goal.

If you already know that one day your offspring (or one of his surrogates) will stop their own journey to take care of the end of yours, wouldn’t it be loving and practical to make life easier for them and arrange for your old age to be fixed… finance investments. since you can still make better decisions?

The tree is planted to enjoy the fruits. Wouldn’t it be logical then to imagine a home suitable for a peaceful and nourishing old age, more accompanied than suffered by those who come after, paying with health for what you have not done for yours?

Old age is a trap, says my 82-year-old father, who has chosen to cling to unfinished projects instead of closing in circles and enjoying the time left when there is more harmony around him. “Your mother wants to boss me around,” he says all the time, and I laugh at his stuff (sometimes desperately) because she sees him the same way, but none of them want to look at their navels honestly.

What they agree on one hundred percent is that the storehouse of their strength to “take care of me” is drying up, as if in their eyes I was still a fragile, reckless girl who had many dreams accumulated under the balcony.

How do I let them know that the best way to ensure my well-being is to keep them? What about his eating habits, his refusal to see a doctor, his unwillingness to get all the papers in order now, in accordance with his will and general family needs?

The new Family Code clarifies their right to choose, as well as my right to protect them, but achieving a balance requires a lot of love and common sense, as well as teaching us as a society to change views and taboos on something natural. like the sunset of life.

Mine, my husband’s, may still take time, but we have already decided to lovingly prepare it, like two young people putting together a sheet for the baby they dreamed of.

You already know our source of inspiration: today she strains her eyes in front of several screens, and really wants to “give me back” the functional man that we miss so much at home.

Source: Juventud Rebelde


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