Turning 25
I always saw being 25 as a turning point, somewhat like a pitchfork in the road where I get to choose another direction in life. I had this image in my head that being 25 would be a defining moment, a transformative time for me—as if turning a year older would instantaneously give me clarity and brand new eyes. It’s not every day that one turns a quarter of a century after all.
Instead, in my quest to be a full-fledged adult the past few years, it was, at times, easy to lose sight of the fact that my own parents are growing old as well.
Dad’s diagnosis hit me almost by surprise, which is crazy because it’s not as if they’ve become old all at once. When we found out about the cancer, it became a reality check that from here on out, we’d be facing an unwelcome guest, a side effect of aging. Perhaps, as children, we’ll always be in denial about our parents’ aging until we get slapped by the reality of it. My moment came when Mom and I had to assist dad in getting dressed right after his surgery a few weeks ago. Now, we’re at that point where we have come full circle—dad helped change and bathe me when I was a baby, and there I was, gently wiping dad’s arms with a dry towel, assisting him as he tried to walk post-surgery and adjusting his bed every so often to make sure he was comfortable.
Nothing quite teaches you that life is ephemeral than slowly watching your parents age. It’s a surreal experience: to confront one’s mortality but even moreso, dare I say, to face and acknowledge my parents’.
I always saw my parents as young, vibrant, and energetic. Now? They are, of course, still vibrant and energetic but one cannot ignore the toll that age has taken: frequent gaps in memory, bodily aches and pains in areas that once remained quiet, and more visits to the doctor than one should have in their lifetime. As their hairs slowly fade from black to grey, skins get a bit wrinklier and hands become more frail—signs that just like all the others, my parents are not invincible and would, in God’s time, likely pass on—I become despondent at the thought of their inevitable absence.
Nonetheless, 26 years ago, they made the choice to conceive me. And 25 years ago I was born.
CCC 1007 says, “remembering our mortality helps us realise that we only have a limited time in which to bring our lives to fulfillment”. Understanding life’s transience allows one to realise how much of a gift it is. Time and again, when people are asked what they regret most in their life, it’s the things they didn’t do — about dreams never pursued, risks not taken, or words not spoken. It makes one wonder — what matters in life? What matters in my life?
My birthday is a welcome and humbling reminder that it is a miracle that I am alive. The beauty of turning a year older is not simply in celebrating another year as an individual, but in the knowledge that I get to continue to live my life with the people who matter the most.
And so, rather than my usual birthday self-reflection, I honour my parents.
Today, I rejoice in thanksgiving that I get to be with them. That, out of anywhere I could be in the world, I get to relish in their presence. In their aging, as well as my own, it can be easy to feel dread or lament. Yet, I appreciate the life I get to live so much more because I know my parents are right beside me. To dream more dreams, to weave, share and create more incredible stories, eat more scrumptious food and bask in the joy of the mundane.
What a life I get to live.
