Just Waiting to Die

Houseboy is here today and as usual, he's extremely kind to the oldies. He brings them sugary treats and respects their comfort zone. He deals with their room first and let's them know when they can go back to bed.

I happened to overhear a portion of conversation. Their response to his, "It's a beautiful day, how are you?" got this response: "We're just waiting to die."

This hurt (one of my) feelings on multiple levels. Their health is better than it has been in a decade. There is ample food in this house. There's a roof over their heads and a car in the driveway. I have dealt with bills, junk mail, etc. I write out directions for anywhere they would like to go. Big Daddy and I take them out to many places. Neighbors, friends and my parents treat them like royalty.

The husband is playing in a golf competition this afternoon. I asked her to go with me to watch it for a bit and cheer on her son. No! Not going to happen without the Unabomber. I'm not a big person and she's not a big person but we cannot fit three of us in a golf cart (with canes and walkers) unless one of us hangs off the back. Since I would have to drive, that might be a little cruel.

I lost a friend this week. A glib remark like, "We're just waiting to die" was like punching me in the gut.