My Reflections

Whenever I see old people in the streets, I want to have a lot of money so that I could build a place for them where they could be taken cared of. In this place, they could be happy and be treated with respect and love. I do not know but it is may be because. I have too much attachment with my grandma. One time, when our CWTS Officers said that we would have an outreach program in Gasa sa Gugma(Mabolo), I was very happy for at least, we could show or affection towards them. When we would try to go the deeper meaning of having a program like what our CWTS class has planned, we would realize how lucky we are that we still have our love ones with us and that we feel so much endearment from them. For me, this was the best experience that ever happened in my entire high school life.

We left U.P. High School t bout 1:00 in the afternoon and we rode on a bus. The place was not that far and there was no traffic so we arrived early. I was one who first entered Gasa sa Gugma and I was overwhelmed by the fact that the place was quiet. Even though the vicinity was near the road, these elderly could relax and have a peaceful life. Before we could mingle with them, we need to tell the nun handling the institution. When our CWTS adviser was talking to the nun, I felt that friend was leaning at my back. I thought that she was just sleepy or something but as I turned to look at her, she was already crying. My friends asked her on what was the matter and she said that she was just touched as she look at them. While she was saying those words, I also felt the same and my eyes were close to crying. I tried to stop it and luckily, my other friend helped me to get over. At last, we were permitted to get inside. The “lolos” and “lolas” looked in amazement and confusion. Some of them were amazed that they saw other people side from those working in the institution and some are confused on who we are and what are we doing there. Most of them re outside their rooms for they have just done taking their nap. I can not help myself but cry when I saw one of the workers who transferred these aged people from the wheelchair to a seat. It was not that simple for she was transferring these sensitive people to a chair like they were just dumping garbage. There was not any sign of love or even of respect for the elderly.

I know that it was not proper for me to cry but I could feel how these aged people longed for a hug and appreciation from somebody. A place like the “Home of the Dying Destitute” should be visited by people who do charity works so that there would be a lot of us who could show to these elderly that they re special and somebody still cares for them.