In the last couple of weeks, I went to the hospital twice; one was to visit the grandfather of a youth leader, and the other was to visit my paternal grandmother, who had a bad fall a few weeks ago and needed to be warded. She is my only remaining grandmother.

We used to be a lot closer when I stayed with her through my primary school days. However, our recent conversations barely scratch the surface. I remember praying for her in Chinese many years back (also at the hospital) and evangelising to her in Shanghai. She was physically weak and emotionally frail then and was surprisingly receptive to the Gospel. But right now, she’s in better health and I think she may have closed the doors again. I just returned home from visiting her with HY and I felt so distant from her.

This got me thinking about the things that go through an old person’s mind. After all, one thing about growing old is that you have all the time in the world to think about all the things you have done in your life, as well as the things that you will never get to do. There are memories that you’d inevitably revisit for the umpteenth time and with it comes the repeated lashing of hurts and pains; each time my grandmother recalls my grandfather, tears well up in her eyes. Honestly, there are times I wonder if she misses him as a husband or misses him as a father for a family that has fallen apart. I’ve experienced for myself firsthand the impact of an absent father; my grandfather’s passing in 1991 seemed to be the turning point of my extended family’s journey into dismay. But I digress.

I reckon that the typical aged person tends to remember the sadder moments about his life instead of the happier ones – I hope that’s not too quick an assumption, but why is that so? Why does he become gradually pessimistic as he ages? I certainly do not wish to age that way. I want to live my life in such a way that I will not look back in regret but to look back and feel great about all the things I’ve done and all the people I’ve impacted.

That night at the hospital, I saw sadness in my grandmother’s eyes. This is a morbid statement but I believe she knows that her time is limited and the day to bid this world goodbye is approaching. I couldn’t help but to think that she was thought about the things she wished she could have done better, the people she wished she could have treated better, and the words she wished she didn’t say. I saw remorse – but I may be wrong.

Please do not misunderstand me – I think highly of my grandmother and I need not prove her credentials through words. It’s just that watching her count her days made me ponder about how I’d be counting mine eventually. Is aging scarier than death itself? Sometimes I can’t help but think so, as I watch the old folks around me get older. And for geriatrics who have little activity to pass time with, they seem to spend the entire day staring into space – maybe they’re wondering if that’s how they are going to spend the remainder of their life. How would I deal with such a devastating thought?

I think it’s miserable and I think there’s so much more to life, even at an old age. I remember this quote (apparently a traditional Indian saying) about living and dying which I quite appreciated when I was growing up.

“When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life in such a way that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.”

I’m pretty confident that, as with any death, the world would cry if I were to pass away at this instance, but the question that lingers is, would I rejoice? I guess I’ll have the rest of my life to figure out the answer. I don’t want to meet God in heaven and have Him put His arm around me and tell me, “You know, Joe, what I actually wanted you to do in this life was…” That would be an epic sadness which I’d want to avoid with my whole life.