Little Buddha

On Wednesday, my mother moved into an old people's home. With all our fights and yelling and pouting for the past few years, I guess she felt compelled to move out and I have to admit I felt relief when she told me of her decision. Her new place is called: Résidence La Providence. She has a very nice room, relatively large and bright, with a private bathroom, for which she pays about 800 Canadian dollars a month, including three meals a day and cable for her TV. On every floor, there is a library, a huge parlour/game room, a laundry room. The dining room is on the ground floor, next to the beauty salon, the billiard room and the dépanneur/mini-mart. There's also a daily programme of exercice and dancing classes, and green plants everywhere. A cleaning lady comes daily to vacuum, empty waste baskets, clean the bathroom, etc. Pretty good deal.

In the evening, I took my son Forty (the breakdancer) to visit her. As we walked around the place, he was pleased with all the amenities, the cleanliness, until he saw the tenants shuffling around on their canes or walkers. The shock on his face! By the time we reached Grandma's room, he was composed again, and he even fixed her TV/DVD/VCR setup and showed her how to use the shower in her bathroom, but once we were back in the car, he cracked! Teary eyed, with trembling voice, he expressed his horror: «How can we let her stay here? We have to move her back right away! Have you seen those poor old people? They have nothing to look forward to, all they do there is wait for death! If I had to live there, I'd kill myself!». I tried to point out to him that it was Grandma's decision to move out, that when she was at home, she didn't do much either, she never went out, while here she would be forced to leave her room at least three times a day to go to the dining room, but he was not convinced. As he was wiping his eyes, I said: Let's wait for a month, to see how she copes and if she's not happy there, we'll take her back.

That night, as we walked the dog together, he said: «You know, as we were leaving, Grandma said: come visit me often! but what she meant is: don't forget me», and I could see him wiping his tears again in the dark. I was so touched by his compassion for his grandmother: it reminded me of the life of the Buddha, when He left his royal palace and discovered sickness, suffering and old age for the first time in His life. Forty's distress is similar to the Buddha's. I feel so lucky to have witnessed such a moment and privileged to be part of his life.