A Feeble Old Man

Image of an Old Man from Psychology Today

A couple of days ago, I went to the bank with mom to withdraw her pension. While waiting for our turn, I saw an elderly man who reminded me of dad. He had some mannerisms similar to dad’s particularly after his stroke.

The feeble old man walked slowly toward the verification counter. He presented his passbook to the bank officer who immediately took it, looked at it and placed it on a small mountain of passbooks in a small plastic container while he kept his eyes on his passbook. She then told the old man (in Filipino), “We’ll just call your name, Sir,” and she went on with the other paper works. The old man was silent as he looked at his passbook and remained in front of the counter for several seconds, then he moved reluctantly one step back. He lingered in his place for several more seconds while looking at his passbook before he slowly walked a few steps behind.

Not very long after that, the bank officer called out his name and returned his passbook. Apparently, he had his passbook updated. He walked toward the table at the back to fill up a withdrawal slip and he returned to the counter immediately afterwards. When he handed his passbook to the bank officer again, she said the same words, “We’ll just call your name, Sir.” Again, the old man did the same thing, he was looking at his passbook as the bank officer placed it on the plastic container again.

The old man looked helpless and weak as he was alone. It moved me. I thought about dad. Tears threatened to escape my eyes but I held them back. It was too embarrassing to cry in a public place you know. I thought about those times when he went to the bank to withdraw his pension alone. Did he act the same way? One time he lost his wallet but he did not know where he lost it exactly. Did anyone assisted him?

It’s been almost two years since he passed away but I still sorely miss him…

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Note: The image above is from Psychology Today particularly from the article that tackles the issues that grip old age.

A Rainy Day Visit

Mom and I thought about going to the cemetery to visit dad’s burial place. There was no particular occasion; we just want to see it and make sure that it would not look forlorn. It looked fine except for a little fading of his name on the marble marker. The lawn grass had greened after the hard rains the previous days. We just asked the caretaker to fix the eroded edges of the plot.

While we were there, the rain started to fall. Our visit was cut short but we will be back soon for his birthday.