As I was waiting for Sis Yem to pick me up, I witnessed this old lady cycling this particular bike, park it where it was as above, removed her outer wear and headed straight into CIMB. She looked so independent and strong and tough for someone her age. And capable of doing these still. But then, as I watched her clean up the place in the bank and picking up balls of thrown papers and chucking them into a plastic bag, I started having this feeling in me. It's not something that I can explain. I feel sad for her, I started wondering about the questions that probably I would never have the answers. Where are her children? Why was she doing this job? Why did she even have to do it? Why is she alone? Why is she not at home or at coffee shops sipping black coffee and catching up with other old folks or even at home or friend's house playing mahjong?
Don't you feel sad for her? Maybe not. Maybe you have to witness it yourself to feel how I actually felt. Maybe it was heartache? Maybe it was empathy? Or perhaps sympathy? I want to help her so much. I am curious about the story behind all the strength she had portrayed. I want to know why there are so many old folks who still have to come out into the society and work so hard to support their family when I'm sure most of them have already had their children or perhaps even grandchildren.
Maybe all I wanted was to help lift their burden.
Perhaps that's the reason why my eyes have gone damp at the sight of her doing all the hard work.
God bless her. =)
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