Saturday, August 25, 2012

The Shelf

Old age

The toy sat of the self, waiting…. waiting and wondering, when it would once again be playtime.

I have watched Toy Story 3 so many times with my grandchildren, and often felt the pain of the toys.

To be shelved, stored away… most of us understand if only a little of their pain.

They were made to be played with… that is their purpose. To be put away and never used as they were designed to be… or worst yet to be tossed out like yesterday’s news paper.

We, you and I were made for a purpose… Each of us.. designed for a purpose… not always the same purpose… but there is a reason for every life and every stage of life.

This poem is from an elderly man in a nursing home…

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses … when you are looking at me?  a cranky old man… not very wise? Uncertain of habit with far away eyes.

Who dribbles his food and makes no reply… when you say in a loud voice.. I do wish you would try!

Who seems not to notice the things that you do.. Open you eyes nurse … you are not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still… as I do at your  bidding and eat at your will. 

I’m a small child of 10, with a father and mother, brothers and sisters… who love one another.  A young boy of 16, with wings on his feet. Dreaming that soon now … a lover he’ll meet.

A groom soon at 20.. my heart gives a leap… Remembering the vows I promised to keep.

At 25 now, I have young of my own, who need me to guide and secure a happy home… a man of 30, my young grown so fast.. bound to each other with ties that will last.

At 40 my young sons are now gone and grown.. my woman is beside me to see I don’t mourn…

At 50 once more, babies play round my knee.. again we know children, my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my wife now is dead… I look to the future and shutter with dread.

For my young are now rearing young of their own… I think of the years and the love I have known.

I’m an old man now and nature is cruel.. the body it crumbles,  grace and vigor depart.. but inside this old carcus,  a young man still dwells and now and again my heart still swells..

I remember the joys, I remember the pain…. I’m loving and living life over again.. I think of the years, all too few… gone too fast. And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

Can you hear the cries of his heart?… a feeling of loss…  he seems to be saying.. “what is my purpose now?” As I grow older, I am more and more aware that my purpose has changed…

No longer the daughter, the young wife and mother, I no longer work outside of my home.… I am now wife.. mother and grandmother… yes… this is a big part of my purpose..but I’m sure that I am not the only one asking… the question that is ever before us as time marches on…

“What is my purpose?”



1 comment:

a portland granny said...

Having just turned 80, these questions are daily in my mind and heart?? Learning to accept the limitations of old age does not come easily!!