A touching letter from an old woman living in a nursing home.

I am 82 years old and have four daughters, eleven grandchildren, two great-grandchildren, and a 12-square-meter room. I no longer have a home or expensive possessions, but I do have someone who will clean my room, prepare meals and linen, check my pressures, and weigh me. I no longer hear my grandchildren’s laughter, and I don’t watch them grow, cuddle, or argue. Some contact me every 15 days, some every three or four months, and some never.

I no longer work in the winter, don’t bake cakes, and don’t dig the garden. I still have hobbies and like reading, but my eyes quickly suffer. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be alone, but I need to get accustomed to it. At home, I facilitate group projects and assist individuals who are less fortunate than me to the greatest extent possible.

Until recently, I read aloud to an immobile woman in the room next to me; we used to sing together, but she died the other day. They say life is becoming longer. Why? When I’m alone, I can look at images of my family and recollections from back home. And that is all.

I hope that future generations understand that families are born to have a future (with children) and that they do not abandon the family even in old age.
Please do not show this to my children.

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