It's an embarrassing fact, I know. Some other old farts can't seem to control their bladder even they are awake, so I think I am better off.
You see, that thought always makes me feel better. But only for about a minute. Because what follows after that is the lingering fear if I would turn into one of those old farts some day.
Today I snapped at my son who called just to chat. *chuckles* He grew up with me so he knows me better to call me just to chat. I am never the chatty type in the first place. He just wants to check if I am still fit to live by myself or if it is time to send me away to the place where old, senile people live together and talk about the old days or play poker or sleep.
In the brochures that he brought me, the old people in the pictures are always smiling. I bet the ones that are always causing trouble with the nurses are sedated so that they will zonk out and smile all the time, never causing the nurses any headache again. Old grumpy man like me would be the first one to go. Until my mind fails me, no chance in the world I'm going to agree to being locked up in one of these places.
But if I were to be honest, the reason I won't leave my house is because of Jane. My dear lovely Jane. At 5 o'clock in the evening, she'll be waiting for me. That's my only motivation to get out of the house. Groceries are taken care of by the lady who is paid to come by twice a week to keep the house in order.
Just now I snapped at a young kid after I walked into him. Can you believe it? I walked into him and I yelled at him. He was shocked but he just kept his mouth shut. Nice kid. I didn't mean to shout at him in public like that, it's just that my knees are hurting more than ever nowadays and each step that I take feels like a battle.
It's a defense mechanism I rely on to these days, being snappy. I figure, if I am unbearable to be around with, then people won't stick around long enough to sympathize or pity my whole situation. Pity. I hate that more that anything. So what if I am alone and lonely because I can't get over the fact that my adorable Jane died 11 years ago. You young kids jumping from one partner to another are the ones that I should pity. For not knowing what it feels like to have found that someone who seems to be put on earth just for you, and you for her. What we had, have, is magic. What they portray in TV, about being in love, the sparks, the glitters, the butterflies and everything, what we have is better. It is the real deal. The closest thing to heaven for the living.
Today I bought my Jane sunflowers, that's her favorite. It makes perfect sense, that sunflower is Jane's favorite. She is just like a sunflower; always sunny, always bright, always cheerful, always facing the sun with stride. I wonder what in the world she ever sees in me. I guess I just got lucky.
Everyday I thank God that he didn't take me first and left Jane behind. I wouldn't want Jane to feel the pain that I feel now, to know that this level of loneliness exists. Though I bet Jane will handle it better than I am. She will be the adorable grandma that everyone wishes to be his own, instead of me, the grumpy old man that everyone can't bear to be around with but never dares to say anything to, even feels sad for, because he is old and gray.
I am at the entrance of the graveyard now. From here I can see my wife's resting place. My knees are shaking. But I am never stopping. As long as I am living and breathing, and until all four of my limbs fail me, I will keep making this walk every evening to see my Jane.
(Dedicated to the pakcik who inspired this story and almost made me cry yesterday, though I'm sure he is sweeter than the pakcik portrayed in this story.)
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