I wrote this post in 2006...

And I am reblogging it with nostalgia. Things have changed since then. My father is 80 and my mom turns 75 this year. While both are still relatively mobile, they also make very frequent visits to the polyclinics and hospitals every other week.

Last week, I visited TTSH thrice. Twice for my mom, once for J's therapy.

It wasn't fun.

This week, I took leave from work to accompany Mom to the hospital again. I don't like this reversal of roles where I have to take care of my parents when they are sick. It is one of those things which I am good at but I rather not do.

One word says it all - heartbreaking. :(



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31 May 2006

My folks and I spent some time out yesterday. To me, these little trips are significant because they are rare. My folks are in their 70s and not as mobile as before. In addition, I have inherited mommy's 'I much prefer to stay at home' genes so getting the 3 of us to go anywhere is really miraculous.

But yesterday was the death anniversary of my grandaunt. She was somewhat like a mother-in-law to mom and it's been 28 years since she died. Earlier, I promised my folks I'd go to the columbarium on this day. A promise is a promise and when one has folks in their 70s, one should not take for granted that there is always another time to fulfil that promise.

So we took a cab to the place and later 2 buses home because they wanted that ride on the bus. I used to think that the choice to take a bus over a cab was to help me save some money and would protest in my loudest voice. Now, I realised that they truly enjoy the bus rides from time to time and I think they too realised that they should enjoy these little things in life while they are still mobile.

The trip took us a little less than 2 hours. Yet in that time, I have learnt a few things.

The roles have changed. Dad walks the slowest among us 3. Even Mom with her arthritis walks a lot better than he. Sadly, the mild strokes and heart-bypass really showed their effects on him. When I was little, Mom and Dad used to take me to the now dysfunctional Clifford Pier. I remembered how they would walk and walk and walk so fast that I would complain that my short little legs were tired.

It used to be that they held on to my tiny hand tightly protecting me from danger. Now, I guide them to cross the street, praying fervently with every step we take.

Taking the bus is no longer a dread. I celebrate every bus trip because each one shows that they are in good health.

Riding on the bus is a new journey. I do not grab the first seat I see like I used to when I was a kid. I grab the first TWO seats I see for my folks and stand protectively nearby.

I am not sure if I like the change of roles. Not that I do not like the responsiblity of looking after my folks but the idea that they are no longer that strong and powerful, the way I see them in all my growing years, makes me sad. Add on the fact that I do not live with them anymore and can only spare a day or two in a week with them, I am regretful for all the times I had brought them pain and not loved them enough.

But regret is a waste of time. What is most important is I cherish the time we share and perhaps help my siblings to see that too.