A Transition of Sorts

I remember my grandparents very well. They were loving, generous, and tried to manipulate the world in their own way.

They were old.

I heard about medical complaints. I drove them to the Doctor. I sat by their hospital beds and translated their stroke-induced speech as best I could. I loved them all very much.

But they were OLD. They were always old. I don't remember them in their middle age. I don't remember them as vibrant youths.

My parents, however, I remember differently. Sure, they seemed old at the time but they were vital and active. They DID things. They were healthy.

I am watching my parents make the shift and it scares me. I see them grasping onto their health as best they can, trying to stay active and eat right. I also see when they don't think that trying that hard is worth it.

I hear about their health complaints. I just want to go up there and make them feel better. I want them to keep their active lives. I don't want them to worry.

I don't want them to get old.

In some cases, transition sucks.