Because you can

The evening was winding down. The sun beginning to set over the concrete horizon. Church service was to begin in an hour and a half and I hadn't even left the premises of the two story where I was staying. A message had been relayed that I was to meet my father at the nursing home where my grandmother was finding harbor. She has been ill as of lately and a visit would serve as good medicine during her healing process.
We pulled up almost simultaneously in the parking lot, on opposite sides of a red sports car. The blacktop scorching our shoes, we walked under the shade of the nearby overhang to escape the sun's dying glare. It seemed fitting that we would be standing here, at the close of such a humid day outside of a manor for those whose lives would be soon setting as well. I began to wonder if, while peering out their four-square windows into the fading daylight, they viewed the sky as a reflective mirror to their lives. My daydream was shaken by the sound of the automated door cordially inviting us inside. The air cooled to a breathable state once we had passed through the second gate that opened into the main corridor. Wheelchairs empty of their occupants were stored just to our right, waiting to be of service. The laminate floor glossy from the prior nights waxing made ample opportunity for my sneakers to perform their hidden ability, squeaking. It's not as though I were trying to cause a stir, but my shoes can sometimes speak for themselves.
Just passed the attendants desk was a group of friends congregating in a corner. I say friends loosely, for there is no way to be sure if a single one out of the lot even remembered the faces staring back at them, or realized where they were entirely for that matter. We passed rooms that could have easily doubled as floral gardens. Others acted as a closet for balloons, strung so benevolently from each vantage point that the occupant was lost in a rainbow of good cheer. For these folks, the term patient seemed irrelevant. For others, it could not have been more appropriate.
Silence surrounded their beds. Machines persistently pumping air into lungs too worn to support their master's will. Curtains drawn to hide the world beyond, a distant memory just out of reach. I often wonder what those who reside in these places are thinking of. Where, while in their dormant state, they escape to.
I admire those unwilling to surrender their mobility, their youth; whether by wheelchair or walker, every inch a struggle. A victory of personal achievement. My concern is extended to the bedridden. A constant prayer for both traced the echo of each step taken throughout this sanctum of generations past. A sense of humility rushes over my functioning body as a list forms before my eyes. Tallying all of the blessings bestowed upon my life, many of which are taken for granite in times of trial. It's humbling. Gazing into eyes full of life, spirits merely encased by wrinkled flesh and thinning bone. A childish heart brilliantly shining through the windows to their soul. I can see them, their souls, yearning for freedom. Calling out to any who will pause for a single moment to hear their cries. To listen to their stories. How I wish I could multiply myself ten-fold and visit each in their own time. The best legends are those of age. I would respectfully listen with intent to anyone older than myself willing to bestow a glimpse of wisdom from their journey amidst this world.
We continued our venture at a brisk pace due to engagements both visitors were expected to keep. The last room on the left belonged to my grandma. She is 93. Her eyes glistened with such brilliance that would have made a thousand light bulbs radiate with envy. She lifted her gaze from the floor to meet ours. Her white hair matted from lying down though she was currently sitting in the oak chair to the left of the bed pillow. Hugs were exchanged, the embrace frail yet strong in respect to our attempts to hold each other as we once did; before her illness.
Her roommate sitting in a chair nearby smiled kindly at our entrance. She had company as well, two daughters now well in their years themselves.
To look back with regret, that is a concern of mine. There is a secret held sacred by tales passed through generations. The truth is that there is no secret at all. "Honor your father and your mother, so that your days may be long in the land the Lord your God is giving you." (Exodus 20:12).

"The Greatest Commandment:"
28One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?"29"The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one. 30Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' 31The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these." (Mark 12:28-31)

Love is one of the most powerful emotions known to man. With this said, we are instructed to love one another and the Lord, our God with all of our heart and soul.

If we do these things, we shall never have to regret the life not lived.