A 70-year-old woman who was hospitalized in an asylum was disliked by caregivers, she was considered sour and uncommunicative. However, shortly after her death, the asylum staff found a note in her room that moved everyone who read it to tears!
Here is the woman’s extremely emotional note:
“What do you see, sisters? What do you see? What do you think of when you look at me? A sour old woman, slightly senile, with strange habits, melancholy eyes, a lost look. Come on, make a little effort. Do you see an old woman you don’t know how to approach who does what you want against my will? Is that what you think? Is that what you see? If so, open your eyes, sisters, because the one you see is not me.
I’ll tell you who I am. I am a 10-year-old girl who has parents and siblings who love me. I am a 16-year-old girl with winged legs, dreaming that I will find my prince. I am a 20-year-old bride and I just promise eternal love to my husband.
I am a 30-year-old woman and I teach my children the evils they must avoid in life. I am a 40-year-old woman, and my children are already teenagers. I am a 50-year-old woman, and my children are already older, but they are no longer at home. At 60, the babies are in my lap again: they are my grandchildren.
At the age of 70, I see black clouds: my husband is gone and a terror seizes me. My children are already far away, they also have big children and I don’t judge them because they forgot about me. Now I’m just an old woman: I’m not a girl, I’m not a teenager in love, I’m not a wife, I’m not a mother, I’m not a grandmother.
How hard nature is! Old age is a mockery of the human being and turns people into insane people. The body leaves us, the force disappears, and where we had a heart, a stone appears. However, all these old women you take care of keep their naivete.
The heart of these babes smiles from time to time, even in those moments when you quarrel with them. These old women see in you some children and they understand you perfectly.
Remember these words not to raise a statue of me or to mourn me for not being now, but to see the soul behind the trembling hands, the tanned skin of fate. I loved you like my children! ”
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