Wishful Thinking

I have a soft spot for the elderly.

What makes me stop to wonder is the fact that their physical conditions do not do justice their life experience. When they lose their memories, lose control over regulating their emotions, needing guiding when walking - it all just seems unfair in comparison to the many things they had to go through in life. The decades, the children they'd raised, they people they'd inspired, the selflessness they learned throughout being tried, the wisdom they had acquired through failure and successes.

They should be the ones running around at family gatherings, not us.

But when I think harder, I can see the larger plan. That nothing physical in this world is worthy of holding the depth of their soul. The vessels that once used to be theirs has literally degraded in order to prepare them for a higher, otherworldly, immaterial, sacred journey. A journey that we cannot fathom, not with our limited brain cells with its lame attempt to rationalise everything without ever fully comprehending.

I know those who believe that this is it - that the world comprises only of the natural, the biological, the physical, that after life, everything ends and the future batch will take over - will snort at my wistfulness. And that is alright, I am not seeking for your approval. I am not trying to prove anything.

I never have and I never will.

I just need to believe.
For them.
For all our parents --

-- believe with the whole of my being, that the people who had loved so dearly, that had striven in life to reach a level of selflessness and wisdom, will not simply... vanish. That they too, will get what they truly deserve. An otherworldly, divine even, measurement of justice. Nothing as pragmatic as what we see on earth.

And then their wrinkles and hunched backs and stutters and tremors would seem like an honour.