Let’s play the writing game. Here’s my first effort at responding to a daily writing prompt
She slowly began to emerge from the delicious haze of semi-wakefulness and dreams of her youth and, ever the optimist, turned to her side to begin her day. But every bone in her 92 year old body rebelled against her efforts, trying to drag her soul into the same abyss of pain she faced daily, and would only grow worse with each passing month. Summoning up courage far greater than any of those who summited Everest, or who brought home Olympic gold, she began her day. Breakfast first. A little light cleaning. Lunch. A few more chores. Over to extended care to spend the afternoon with her husband of 68 years, who sometimes remembered her. Home. A few more chores, Bed, Sleep. Wake. Repeat.
This is the life of the true brave; the life of those we often ignore, writing off as being old and useless. We do not worship them; we do not thank them for their years of forging the way so we can live in the style we want. We do not see what they once were; we see only frailty and weakness. Yet most of us could not muster the same courage they must do every single day, every single movement, every single moment. This is the life of the golden years – the reality of growing old and living with chronic pain. These are the people who deserve our hero-worship. These are the hoardes of seniors who every single day show truly unusual acts of bravery more deserving of respect than those who foolishly risk their lives chasing windmills on the likes of Mount Everest.