Growing old is not a crime.
Growing old is not a crime, It creeps up on us over time. We all were young with hopes and dreams, with heads held high and self esteem. Independent, strong and fit, life didn't worry us a bit. we lived and loved and had such fun, built precious memories in the sun. We never looked too far ahead, we took it day by day instead. We took for granted daily chores. We washed the dishes, cleaned the floors. We cooked our meals and lived our life, with many years as man and wife. Our children grew and fled the nest and later we were truly blessed, with grand kids balanced on our knees. Life seemed to be a gentle breeze. But soon the signs were on the wall, It started with a nasty fall. The little niggles, aches and pains. The blood ran slower through our veins. And then the things we just forgot, made so much worse by a blood clot. Our simple life was failing fast, the breeze was now an icy blast. Arthritis caused us to slow down, and all we seemed to do was frown. And then the loss, we had to part. A tired old broken worn out heart. The family now just couldn't cope, they saw me sliding down the slope. My eyes had faded with my sight, and now my day was turned to night. But I held on I wouldn't leave, 'though all I did was sit and grieve. I didn't want to go in care, but all I did was sit and stare. They took me up the gravel drive, I didn't want to be alive. I had seen these homes before, I struggled through inside the door. And then at once I heard a voice, It sounded like my old friend Joyce. She used to live at number three, she gave a shout when she saw me. She laughed and said you poor old soul, it looks like life has had it's toll. Come on through and meet my friends, we have a party at weekends. I couldn't believe quite what I saw, although my heart was still so raw. It felt so real, it felt so right, with staff so kind and full of light. My loneliness was swept away, I saw there was another way. And from the pits I saw a rope, a place where I could have some hope. They wiped away my bitter tears, and breathed new joy into my years. So if you think you need some care, go have a look, accept my dare. Look for laughter, joy and song. Some will seem right and others wrong. But getting old is not a crime, and homes are not all smells and grime. You may just find a brand new start, a place to heal that tired old heart. Jan Millward©