There's a poor old man in Apt. 79 too...

Back in April of 2012 I read a story about a woman who patiently waited for the phone to ring, for a knock on the door, for an invitation to go out and show off her best dress. Every day was the same routine for her. The only conversation was with her broken reflection, the only sound was the pain in her heart, and the only movement was her wiping away the tears. She knew her time was limited, but her selfless heart, that of a mother, never gave up hope that there would come a day when they would remember the poor old woman who brought them into this world. The poor old woman in apartment 79 who would do it all again just to hear the phone ring, to hear the knock on the door, to hear them say "Ma, you look beautiful in that dress." When I first read the story, I was angry because all the woman wanted was to feel like she still mattered. I knew one day they would regret not knowing how good they had it and I no longer felt angry, but sad. I found the story in the paper and I decided to stop by this apartment.

Apartment 79. I knocked on the door and there was no response. Maybe today was a good day. Maybe today one of them remembered this wonderful woman and took her out to show off her best dress. But as I walked away, the door slowly opened. An old man answered the door and after asking about the woman from the story he told me I was at the right place, except that I was too late. His eyes filled with tears and I knew what he meant. She was no longer here.

I asked how it all happened. After wiping away his tears he told me the story. 21 days in the hospital, but not one day did she spend alone like she did in the apartment. She did not go alone, but with the love and presence of the people she most cared about like she always wanted. "We were all finally a family," he told me.

This was good, right? I thought to myself. But I noticed the sadness as he said that.
After pausing for a long time he went on, "but it's only been two months and it's like they already forgot. Not necessarily her, but the fact that they still have me. It's like they think because I am a man, that I don't feel the loneliness of this apartment. They forget that I still love and need them." He paused again. He swallowed hard and continued, "But you know something, I would do it all again just hear the phone ring, to hear the knock on the door, to hear them say 'Pa, you look good in that shirt'."

I did not know what to say. It was not just a woman who longed to feel like she still mattered, but a man with the same desire too. If I was upset when I heard the story of the woman, now that I learned there were actually two old people in the apartment longing for the same thing, my heart was even sadder. What else needs to happen for this storyline to stop repeating itself? I hope it doesn't take this poor old man being in the hospital for a temporary change of heart of these people again. I hope that next time I come visit this man, he will answer the door and only cry tears of joy. I hope they realize it soon, how good they have it, for them and for him before he no longer waits by the door, no longer waits by the phone, and no longer puts on his best shirt because he is gone too.

Take the time to show the people you love what they mean to you because when they are gone, things are never the same. 

<3

In Memory of My Grandma
11.20.25 - 12.12.12.