This Is Why I Still Believe in People

Empathy across generations

Senior citizen centers in the US serve as social hubs for those who are 55 and older. They offer a wide range of services, from health checkups, meals, transportation, wellness, and recreational activities.

But what about those who are homebound and shy about socializing?

At our local church, a program matches high schoolers with homebound senior citizens in the community, and they exchange letters throughout the year.

I have noticed that many of the younger generation do it only because it is a part of Sunday school.

So it gave me great joy to hear what 7-year-old Josh did when he went with his mom to Dunkin' Donuts.

Josh saw an elderly man having breakfast all by himself and was curious why he wasn't eating it with family.

His mom replied that maybe Josh's kids had grown up and were living far away, so they couldn't have breakfast with their dad.

But Josh was having none of that. He invited himself to the elderly gentleman's table and proceeded to give the delighted man good company. They later found out that he lived one street over from Josh's family and that he had been good friends with Josh's great-grandfather.

The gentleman was a widower with no close relatives.

That day, new friendships were forged, and plans for more such breakfast dates were made, all thanks to an empathic boy.

Volunteering with Guadalupe

Stories like Josh's reminded me of my own experience connecting with older adults.

Some years ago, I was going through depression, and my doctor suggested I volunteer at an assisted living home.

I noticed a brand-new establishment with beautiful landscaping near my home, so I decided to apply there.

Perhaps its $10K monthly price tag may bring to mind TV commercials of happy senior citizens living their best lives.

Reality, however, is quite different. Every week, I come across sad faces with a "what am I doing here?" look. Some are on a regular regimen of antidepressants to help combat their profound sense of loneliness and abandonment.

At the assisted living, I worked as a companion to a wonderful senior citizen named Guadalupe.

Guadalupe moved from Puerto Rico to the U.S quite late in life. Because of that, her English is not very good, which makes communication with fellow residents difficult. The fact that she is also shy does not work in her favor when it comes to socializing.

Even though the family portrait proudly displayed at the entrance to her suite shows her as a doting mother and grandmother, she hardly gets any visitors.

In such situations, the facility relies on volunteers to provide much-needed companionship.

So how did I, someone with very little Spanish, communicate with Guadalupe, who has limited English?

The answer is simple. Empathy and kindness don't need a language.

And I will explain why. It is in the little, thoughtful things that we do that can bridge the language gap.

For example, Guadalupe had a habit of skipping meals, and if she hadn't had her breakfast when I visited, I would invite her to come down to the dining area with me. Perhaps having company while eating made her feel less self-conscious, or it could be because it distracted her from memories of shared meals with her family before moving into assisted living.

One thing that cheered her and put a smile on her otherwise sad face was when the waitstaff would ask me if I were her daughter. She is Latina, and I am of Indian origin. But there must have been some similarity— perhaps it was the brown hair or dark eyes that inspired those comments.

Anyway, it made both of us happy and forged a quiet bond.

Once breakfast is done, Guadalupe loves to take a walk — weather permitting or play a board game, which happens to be one of her favorite activities.

Our weekly visits ended with COVID when the facility suspended all volunteer-based activities. When things returned to normal, I found myself caught up with life and work, so I did not go back to volunteering.

However, I am grateful for the time I spent with Guadalupe because she helped me step out of the dark space I was in and see things from a different perspective.

All my life, I have experienced love as conditional. If I am a good girl, obedient, compliant, and perform well academically, then I am in my parents' good graces.

As I grew older, they expected me to take care of them like a good daughter. My life and dreams are secondary to that. When I was married, again, my narcissistic ex expected complete obedience and compliance. He spent all my money, so I had to stay tethered to him to survive. My kids expect me to put their needs first and solve their problems. For my boyfriend, I am a vessel where he parks all his fears and worries. My value at work is directly tied to being competent and meeting deadlines.

I manage all this without complaining. No one is forcing me to. The difference is I am self-aware, and I know that in many situations, I am giving because I want to, not because I expect anything great in return.

I plan to quietly book myself into a retirement community when I reach that age. I have made my peace with being alone. It's not to be confused with loneliness. I am not lonely.

When I dream of all the books I get to read without interruption and the novel or two I will get to write when I have time to myself, and the confidence that I am not beholden to anyone, it is a liberating feeling.

I truly believe I can fly then.

I also believe that if we each extend a little kindness across generations, the world becomes brighter.

And if a seven-year-old can do it so freely, maybe empathy isn't something we lose — just something we forget to practice.

More from Yana:

🎈The Dark Truth About Being Too Nice

🎈Did You Know You Are Writing for a Mostly Male Readership?