Letter from an elderly woman locked in a nursing home…


 This letter represents the balance of my life.


I am 82 years old, have 4 children, 11 grandchildren, 2 great-grandchildren, and a 12 square meter bedroom.


I no longer have a home or things that are dear to me, but I have someone who cleans my room, cooks my meals, makes my bed, takes my blood pressure, and weighs me.


I no longer have the laughter of my grandchildren, I can no longer watch them grow, kiss, and fight; some come to see me every two weeks; others every three or four months; and still others, never.


I no longer make croquettes, stuffed eggs, minced meat rolls, or cross-stitch. I still have a few hobbies to pursue, and Sudoku, which I enjoy a bit.


I don't know how much longer I'll have, but I have to get used to this solitude. I do occupational therapy and help those worse off than me as much as I can, although I don't want to get too attached to them: they disappear frequently. They say life is getting longer and longer. Why is that? When I'm alone, I can look at photos of my family and some souvenirs I brought from home.


I hope future generations understand that families are meant to have a future (with their children) and to give back to our parents for the time they gave us to raise us

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