a life already has passed and each day is a questionmark
i used to be the center of our family; feeding it and holding it together. i was the matriarch of this family.
today i am almost 95 years old. each day is a question mark; will it be the last? will i wake up tomorrow morning again, now that i go to bed, and another day has passed? why was i chosen to live this many years? why me?
it would be ok, had i been able to cook, clean, sew and have dinner-parties. but i can't. i have pain everwhere. i cannot walk very far. my legs hurt me when i walk. i cannot cook, because when i taste the food, i taste nothing, and i spill things everywhere. i cannot sew, because my fingers won't do what i want them to do. and worst of all, i cannot socialise, because i cannot hear what they say. it is all a big murmur.
i feel alone in what used to be my life. i live inside the same walls, where nothing has changed, except me. i have changed, i am merely a shadow of my former self, but my soul lives inside me, intact, and it feels like a prisoner. my soul tries to recreate the life i used to have; when i have family over, it tries to be part of the family feeling, and i try to be the way i used to be, but i can see by the reactions of my sons and daughters and grandchildren that i make mistakes and say things that are completely out of sorts. That makes me feel so stupid and powerless, as i used to be the authority around here. i used to change their diapers and wipe their tears, goddammit!
and i wait. i sit there, with the silence, and i wait. no radio or TV can entertain me or help me pass the time anymore, as i don't hear what they say, and i cannot follow a TV-show. it moves too fast for me. i sit there, embedded in the silence, and long for my life as it used to be.
and i go to bed, wondering if i will wake up tomorrow morning. will i have yet another day of trying to recreate the life i once lived?