The older old man

I was trying on my new glasses to show my daughter. They are gray on top, silver on the sides, slightly curved with no bottom. They are current. My daughter, who had closed her eyes so that showing could be more dramatic, open them and announced, "You look old."

She quickly added that I did look cooler, and more with it, and that I should not go back to my old frames, but that fact is, I look old. At least older than the people she has become accustomed to looking at, who are mostly twenty-five to thirty-five, and now bring along with them a new generation, who are mostly two months to two years. They look young, with rosely cheeks, dewy skin and sparkling eyes.

But, it was later, when we went to the nursing home to visit the older old man, that my daughter could no longer keep the tears from running down her cheeks, although nothing was really happening except age.

The older old man is 95, and after 03 years of holding together he is now afflicted with what is now considered the disease of deterioration, dementia and dying. The older old man was pleasant, and even seemed to kind of figure out who my daughter was, or at least he was able to fake his way through it, relying on his well established social skills, much the same way years ago when this very daughter had mastered the skill of appearing to read by learning all the words to "Fred and Ted."

But his presentation of holding it together had too many flaws as he asked, about every thirty seconds about his wife, who has been dead for nine years. He also, in a friendly, personable way, turned to my wife, his daughter, and asked her how her parents were.

And that was it. He was tired. He tried valiantly, and succeeded to get himself up out of his chair, and staggered in small, very quick steps traversing the three feet from the chair to his bed, grabbing my wife's arm so that he would not pitch himself full force into a frontal forced landing. But we got him safely into bed, clicked on an alarm gizmo, which is designed to call an aid if he tries to get himself up.

We put on our coats, and before we were out of the room he was asleep. He will spend the last of his days more asleep than awake before he slips over into eternal rest. It is very difficult to watch, as much for him as it is for ourselves. Especially those of us who will put on a new pair of current style glasses than make us look kool, but old.