My grandmother died last week.
She was over 92 years old, so I guess time took its toll.
But the real killer was indifference. From the people she loved. Me included.
Aging gracefully is a myth. The moment your existence becomes a terminal burden to your family, the recriminations will start. Day by day they will strip away your dignity, till you huddle in the some dark corner of the house, wasted to bare bones, waiting for death.
When you reach this stage, you can be stoic. Swallow everything - insults, pity, contempt.
Or you could slash your throat.
That's when you wonder. What do you need more - the courage to die or the determination to live?
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