When I opened my eyes I found myself on a bed in an ICU of a nearby hospital with an oxygen mask on my face and a sharp needle inserted is my arm. Very soon I realized that once again I survived the suicide which I attempted last night.
“You truly have grown old Mark Parker can’t even attempt a successful suicide”, talked to myself and gasped Uhhhh…. My lungs were not in a condition to shout and burst them out so instead of calling someone I remained still and quiet on bed deep in my thoughts and waited for my heartless kids to come collect this huge shit.
I taped my scarred fingers which recollected my memories where I see bringing up my five kids’ two daughters and three sons. I sacrificed every comfort and happiness of my life for them ripening 48 years of my age weaving leather bags. The scars on my hands are a proof how many times I used to prick my fingers but never gave a heed to them and started off again with a new spirit that I have to do it for my kids.
Today, I am 70 and my soul is being brutally pricked with abuses, taunts, mental and physical assault since the last few years when my sons got married and showed up their backs to me. My family members call me senile and beat me up on trivial matters. I was kept locked in one room for days with porridge that was served me every day.
“Come on Old Chap!!! It’s time to go you’ve being discharged.” The gross voice threw me back to my present and there I saw my youngest son standing in front of me with a frown and anxiety on his face.
“Get off the bed and come downstairs in the parking. I’m waiting to drive you to your new home.”
I know where I was being taken. We entered a huge building where I saw so many old bones like me leading their last phase of life in the bottomless pit of loneliness. Yes!!! I was brought to an old age home. I entered the office with a heavy heart tears rolling down my cheeks realizing that this might be the last chance I’m seeing my son. Gaushhh!!! How will I survive? What will be my future? All such questions flashed across my mind and my cruel son left me helpless. The first few weeks were like a hell for me. I used to peep through the windows of the office when some family member comes to meet his loved one. Whenever the pone bell rang I used to rush to it that might it’ll be for me but all in vain.
But as it is said that every cloud has a silver lining, indeed nature had planned something good for me. In the end of summers a young student Emma came for her thesis. All they long she used to spend with me listening to my life tabulating her data in her laptop. I started showing up my interest for her work. One day, she came up to me handing over a laptop with some text appearing on the screen.
She was turning up the table for me and directing it to a new dimension. She started off a blog for me “The OldBlog” and it took me almost a month understanding it because it was just a new world to me. Gradually, I got familiarized with it and find it much more exciting. This gave me a new reason to live. Now, I am running my blog successfully which is purely for the old people. My work is purely for me and many other oldies. I share my experiences with them, listen to them and guide them. It has saved many others from doing the same mistakes which I did and similarly gives many a new reason to live. Through my blog I explore the peoples’ life in old age homes worldwide. At the same time I do write for the young lads guiding them not to abandon their parents as they’re a great blessing and not to consider them a financial burden or a germ spreading machine.
The world of blogging is so promising that it welcome’s whole heartedly every soul who decides to enter it. It blew a new life even in this old punctured soul. Yes!!! This is the Mark Blog Reborn, what I’m known today. Today, blogging is not only my source of living but my reason to live, my mate of loneliness and my child. My blog is now my world and my blog lovers are a family which is dearest to me. I share my sorrows with and celebrate my happiness with them. My sons and daughters would definitely have forgotten me and for them I died on the very same day when they showed me the way to this old age home. Sometimes, my lips quiver and tears roll down my eyes but yet I wipe them off proudly with a rejuvenated heart which Emma engraved in me feeling myself as enthusiastic as before.