The suffering of age is perhaps the greatest suffering of all…
My maternal grandmother is a very very old woman. Because she was born in Lebanon during a time when record-keeping was very poor, we do not really know how old she actually is. But we know for sure that she is a very very old woman.
We think she is close to one hundred years old.
I love my maternal grandmother. She is very dear to me.
And yet, I watch her in her age and I feel a terrible compassion for her suffering.
You see, my grandmother – like all elderly souls – is dying. She is dying with the same certainty as any younger person diagnosed with a terminal illness. She is dying with the same pain and suffering (perhaps more) as a younger person enduring a terrible illness. She has the same fears about the next life as a younger person who is approaching the end of their earthly life.
And yet, my maternal grandmother – simply because of her age – receives no compassion for her suffering. When people see her they think to themselves (and say to her), “How lucky to live to one hundred years old!”
But I do not see very much luck in an age like that.
Because my grandmother is almost on hundred, she has witnessed the deaths of her children (not only in their infancy, but also in their middle age). Because she is one hundred years old, she has witnessed the deaths of all of her peers. All sister in laws (except one who is much younger than she is), brother in laws, brothers, sisters, parents and friends. And because my grandmother is one hundred years old, she experiences severe and chronic pain throughout her entire body. Her movement is limited. Her independence is limited. Her ability to speak and be heard is limited.
You see, the elderly have no voice. They have no freedom. And – perhaps most tragic of all – they receive no compassion…
And my grandmother lives in her home with her son and daughter in law. She is not neglected or unloved or uncared for. She is simply old.
And there is such a terrible weakness in age that it bewilders me. When I see my grandmother, I see a soul in the body of a dying woman. A dying woman who is offered no counselling to grieve the end of her life (because we believe she should be grateful to have lived this long).
And when I look at that soul, I see the power in that suffering. You see, the souls of the elderly hold great power for all of us. For when they pray for us, they can offer their suffering, which is far greater than mine, and through that offering, unite their suffering to the suffering of Christ on the Cross.
And when I think about that today, I think to myself that I should offer an extra prayer for strength for my grandmother, for the suffering of age is perhaps the greatest suffering of all…
For with prayer, I stand on Holy Ground where everything is clear. Here. At the Foot of the Cross.
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