Old Man
He is wrinkled, aged, probably a World War II veteran. Old.
He walks with a limp, his head hung low due to the hunch in his back, hobbling across the parking lot. I wonder if he sees what is in front of him or if he can only watch the ground. I wonder when the last time was that he could look up and see the stars.
He makes me think of my Grandparents, all four of them, still living as their ages creep up towards 90. I say a prayer for them, like I do every night, and thank God for the fact that they’re still here; that they got to see me get married; that they get to be in my daughter’s life.
He stands in front of me in line clad in his baseball cap, a members only jacket, wool gray slacks and black orthopedic shoes, and I try not to stare. I try not to wonder about his life. But I can’t help it. I wonder. I wonder if he’s married to the same women he met and fell in love with 50 or 60 years ago. I wonder if she’s still living or if he now spends his evenings alone in an empty house. I wonder how old his children are; his grandchildren. I wonder about the stories he would tell, of the history he must remember, how he feels about the state of our country today.
I watch him hand over money to the cashier and notice his hands are crippled with arthritis. He has a hard time grasping the change she gives back to him and an even harder time replacing the bills in his wallet. I bet he remembers when his lunch only cost him a quarter instead of seven-dollars. I wonder if he’s thinking about that time right now…
I notice him shuffle away from the counter and towards the coffee machine, the yellow ceramic mug gripped in his arthritic hand. Our paths will now part and most likely never cross again. I hope he gets home okay. I hope his children and grandchildren are kind to him. That they help him when he needs help. Even if he doesn’t ask for it.
While I sat in the parking lot with my blinker on prepared to turn into a spot and the big white Buick swung in ahead of me, I was angry. I had been waiting. That was my spot.
Old Man, may you unknowingly steal many more parking spaces in the years you have left. God Bless.
Well this post totally made me cry. I miss my Grampa. So well written – so beautiful. Thank you for this today.
Cass´s last blog ..bigkid4
October 29th, 2009 | #
Awww. Love this! Living in a part of the country known for being flooded with the elderly, I’ve grown to love them. I’ve grown to appreciate and respect them. I’ve grown to be tolerate of and patient with them. I love them, for they are someone’s mother or father, someone’s grandmother or grandfather, perhaps even someone’s great-grandmother or great-grandfather, etc.
As my own parents – um, how do I say this – ‘get up there in years’ with more and more advanced ‘challenges’, I often wonder whether others – ya know, those ’strangers’ that cross *their* paths – treat *them* with as much love, appreciation, respect, tolerance, and patience as I do of other elderly. I wonder … and usually worry too … all in the same thought.
I love them, and will always take a stand for them. After all, if we are half as lucky as they, we will be them at some point too. And I only hope to come across the likes of me (not intended with conceit) at that age.
[Usually being somewhat of 'a silent one', apparently this topic hit close to home ... ]
October 29th, 2009 | #
I really enjoyed this post, perhaps it’s one of my new favorites from you. Really moving. I’m really sensitive when it comes to the elderly.. I feel sad for them and I’m not sure why. My grandfather’s passed away before I was born.. One grandmother passed away when I was four and the other is 91 years old (and I never see her)… While I haven’t talked to her in two years, I took the time tonight to call her to tell her about my engagement. She’s never met Evan but I hope he does before it’s too late.
October 29th, 2009 | #
Nice post Ally, you have not lost your touch with words.
October 30th, 2009 | #
I wonder the same things. And then I wonder if his family appreciates the time they have left with him now that my own Gram & Gramp are gone. Do they listen to his stories? Do they spend time with him? Do they cherish every last moment like the gift it is?
October 30th, 2009 | #
This was beautiful! It’s amazing the small moments in our every day that can mean so much.
lilfootsmommy´s last blog ..Sleep FAIL
October 30th, 2009 | #
This was a great post! I’ve seen many men like this one and I’ve often thought the same thing.
Reading this makes me miss both my Papas. One passed away when I was 18 and the other when I was 23. Neither saw me get married (one was already gone and the other lived too far away to make the trip) and neither ever saw my girl.
Thank you for sharing this story.
Kellie´s last blog ..Further Proof
October 30th, 2009 | #
::sniffle::
Michelle´s last blog ..Conversation Before Bed
October 31st, 2009 | #
This was wonderful. And it made me miss my grandparents. Although you could very well have been talking about my father.
Great post. I love it because it really got me thinking….
November 1st, 2009 | #
Beautiful. I’m missing my Grandpa today. Thanks for the portrait of the life of a stranger. xoxo
bessie.viola´s last blog ..excerpted
November 2nd, 2009 | #
Great post! All of my grandparents are now deceased. I remember my grandfather, in the later years of his life, used to talk my ears off, and I would be bored to pieces. If only I could go back in time and really listen to him again. *sigh*
Whenever I pass the food court in our mall, I always spy the older folks. Many sit alone, sipping their coffee or eating their small meal. I have always wanted to ask if they would mind if I sat with them, to provide them some company. Perhaps I feel this way because I have guilt for not listening – really listening – to my grandfather many years ago. *double sigh*
November 11th, 2009 | #