I’ve been working with senior citizens for a few years now, alongside many people who are also older than me. And I have recently stopped working with older adults, but they are still in my heart and in my head. I have seen similarities and differences between myself and my elders highlighted. And it’s left me with a lot of love for them. However, I also have a lot to say. So today, I just wanted to write down my thoughts. If you are someone who is of an older generation, know that I’m also writing to you. (In a vague and generalized way.) I hope you will take time to read my thoughts, as I have taken a long time to piece them together.
Dear Elders,
I want to thank you for all of the lessons you’ve taught me. Truth is, I don’t know as much as I should probably know about the world around me, about people, or about living my life in general. So many of the things I teach to others now, I once learned from you. And sometimes, I’m embarrassed to admit how hard they are for me to learn. I’m not perfect, and neither are you.
I know you’ve made mistakes in your day. I know that with time they either faded away or they didn’t, and you were left with the consequences. And I’m here to tell you, I’m willing to listen to your stories. I want to know what kind of hand life has dealt you, even if it may not be directly applicable to me. Your perspectives are valuable to me, and in general.
I want you to know that I admire you. I hope someday I am able to look back at my life and have what you have. A beautiful love story, some crazy friends, a life full of memories and pride in myself at who I’ve become. I’m working on it. But for now, I recognize that you’re already there, and that’s wonderful.
I don’t look down on you for the struggles that you may be facing, with either physical or cognitive impairment. A life full of living will do that to you sometimes, and it doesn’t make you any less of a person. I’m so glad that you’re still around for me to hug and share a smile with, or a song on a rainy day. In many ways, I feel that you’re more alive than a lot of people my age.
Sometimes, seeing you or talking to you brings me pain. Mostly when I see you advocating for things that would hurt someone else, yourself, or the environment. I understand that the world was a very different place when you were young, and I try to be sensitive to that. But it makes me sad knowing that such kind, smart people can advocate for and rationalize things that victimize someone. I’m trying to find a balance of respecting you and respecting your ideas enough to build on them and change them when there is a different, more compassionate or efficient way things could be done. You see, I’m trying to take your world and build the world that someday, generations after me will live in. I’m trying to be the bridge.
I’m scared you won’t see the love and care I put into what I do for you and the world around us. I want to make you proud, and I want to follow my heart at the same time. And sometimes, that means doing things that you won’t understand. Please work with me to try and understand that I respect the foundation from which I came–I’m just trying to build on top of it.
The truth is, I would be lucky to live half the life that you’ve lived. You’ve seen death and wars, history and love, new life and breakthroughs and I don’t know if I’m going to do anything that spectacular. But I know that I want to try. In order to live up to your legacy, I need to break the mold you’ve given me. I hope you understand that.
Someday, I hope, I’m going to be old. And I’m going to look back at all the old people I once met and knew and tell all the young people about them. (Sometimes I’ll probably talk as if they’re still alive.) In that way, it’ll be like a little portal through time. As the years go by, history gets lost in us. And I hope that I get the chance to be wrinkly and tired, and tell people all about your story. Because you made a mark on me. Then they can hear about World War 2 or the Great Depression or segregation laws from something other than a textbook. And I don’t know, maybe in the end that’s all I can give. And maybe it’s not enough. But I hope you understand the respect behind it.
Love,
Rebekah
