The hotel dining room supplies good food (most of the time), interesting conversation, and great gossip! How else would we find out what is going on with the residents and staff? I look forward to the dinner stories.
Some of the stories are funny (we all need to laugh every day), and some sad. Living in a hotel full of old people I have learned to accept death as a part of life. At first it was heartbreaking. Don’t get me wrong, I still mourn, but it is not as intense. We are born, we live, and then we die. A difficult lesson it is, and not one I considered when moving here.
Last night I learned that one of our long-time residents had passed (a word I have never used before moving here). She was 107, so had lived a long life. Quiet and sweet is how I think of her. She lived near me, and we chatted in the hallway to and from the elevator. I don’t know much about her life, and that seems sad, but she was kind and gentle, a real lady. Someone new is living in her apartment, but I still think of it belonging to Laura.
We are not a tight group, but we do care for each other. People come and go. Sometimes it is death that takes them. Sometimes they need to live in a place where they receive more care due to their health, including dementia. the continuing spectrum of human life is obvious to all of us, and we know that our time will come sooner or later.
One thing I don’t like is there is no closure. We are never invited to the funerals, and there is never a time to come together and mourn.
Although I have been writing about sex and seniors, I never forget that our time on this plane is limited. Each day is a gift.