Take the elderly person out for a walk.

Traveling with their parents is a joy for children. Photo: XH

This was the first time the 92-year-old grandfather went out with his children and grandchildren. Before leaving, the whole family, from adults to children, focused on one thing: "How to get him to stay home."

And these "strange" things kept happening throughout the journey. Since his wife's death, he hasn't left the house. Perhaps the furthest he's gone is when his children and grandchildren take him to her grave.

This time, the children were determined to take their father on a trip. Seemingly understanding their efforts, he agreed and resolutely said: "Let's go, because who knows how much longer we'll be able to travel?"

He was hard of hearing but sharp-minded. When we arrived at Phu Ninh Lake, he recounted how, during the war, the southern part of Quang Nam province was a desolate, overgrown forest.

Arriving at Rang Nui Thanh beach, he recounted stories about Chu Lai airport and the American troops who landed there. It seemed that every place held a mark in his memory of days long past. And rightly so, since the peace treaty , he had stayed in Dien Ban, working and raising his children.

With every step the old man took, his sons followed behind, supporting him. The excitement in children's eyes when going out to play turned into the squinting of an old man arriving in unfamiliar land.

They say that old age makes one feel like a child again, perhaps because after experiencing all the flavors of life, the elderly see life in its most basic form, like a child.

Trips with family members, even adults, can sometimes be less exciting than experiences with friends. But strangely, after returning home, the moments of the trip keep coming back, with the images of my parents.

I remember taking my dad to a resort in Hoi An. He kept marveling at how they managed to keep the lawns so lush and green, like in the early morning, despite the scorching sun. At the breakfast buffet, he quietly stood there, clicking his tongue in amazement, wondering how they managed to serve so many dishes at once...

Every summer, my friend brings her mother from the highlands down to the city to go to the beach. She said that the first time her mother saw the sea, she was scared. So, every afternoon, the whole family would take her to the beach, until the end of the summer, when her mother knew the seawater was salty and felt the waves on her back like a massage.

After my father passed away, my mother became… “difficult to please.” Our trips together became less frequent. She said, “Who will stay home to light incense and offer prayers if I go?” But I think it’s because the trips she takes now lack the presence of a loved one. It makes her feel sad and she always wants to avoid them.

Just like my child's grandfather, on a sunny afternoon by the sea, he urged the whole family to take him home. "Don't leave your mother waiting at home," he said, even though it was just the first anniversary of his grandmother's death...

"A mother is the greatest gift life has given us, those who have and are still having mothers" (Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh). I deeply understood this when I went through the days after losing my father. Life is impermanent; separation and reunion are separated by only a moment.

I often encourage my friends when they change their profile picture to a white lotus on a black background. But deep down, like myself, I know they will go through endless days of emptiness.

How fortunate it would be if, in this life, children could hold their parents' hands and travel to many places as their parents did when they were children...

Source: https://baoquangnam.vn/dat-tay-nguoi-gia-di-choi-3139690.html