Mollitia minus duis

I’ve often met people who’ve lived long enough to meet their great-grandchildren, some even in their 90s or beyond. It’s fascinating to see someone live so long—it seems like they’ve had a truly good life. But if you spend time with them, you quickly realize that their memories of those years are often vague. Sometimes, they even forget their own children or the people around them. This is heartbreaking, especially for the families and caregivers who take on the responsibility of looking after these elderly individuals.

In the Philippines, our culture places a strong emphasis on family, and it’s rare for elderly parents or grandparents to be sent to a nursing home. Most of the time, we take care of them ourselves. Though some may hire caregivers, the elderly typically remain within the comfort of their own families. This familial care is a deeply rooted tradition.

While it’s amazing to see people live such long lives, I can’t help but feel hesitant about reaching that age, especially if it means losing clear memories of my life and the people I love. There’s also the issue of medical care. For many families without generational wealth or significant financial resources, caring for an elderly loved one becomes a financial burden. Although the government provides senior citizen benefits, these are often not enough to cover the full extent of the care needed.

What I’m trying to say is that I’d rather live a full, reasonable life and pass away with clear memories of the people and moments that mattered to me than live to an advanced age only to forget everything, even my own name