Remember

In my job I see people. Lots of people. Some I remember, some I forget.

I see people old before their time locked in by family loyalty.
Unwilling to just farm their loved ones off to some don't care home,
they look after them themselves. They live in their parents home still
decorated with the ornaments and images of the past. They hold down
dead end jobs, usually poorly paid, until the health of their loved
ones deteriorates to a point that they cannot be left for long periods.
Their lives are empty, devoid of all but the love for their parents
and every task is another straw to an already broken camel's back. Yet
they continue and show a brave face to all that look on.
Their friends and other relatives have moved on, now it is just their
parents, the tv and prescription anti-depressants for company. Life
hasn't just passed these people by, it's opened it's bowels as it went
past.

When you tell them that a loved one has passed away, you can see it in
their faces. It's a mixture of grief, relief and confusion. Confusion
as to what to do now. A life dedicated to care is now over and these
people have neither the will, energy nor finances to do anything for
their own remaining years. With no children to care for them and no
friends to look in on them, their depression takes hold. They begin to
live in squalor, there is no one to tidy the house for. Their stronger
pills are washed down with and often replaced with alcohol. No longer
having to live for someone else they give up and when they become ill
and call me out, I have to write on the form "next of kin - none".
They likely have living relatives, but none they can call on, even in
times of need, so estranged have they become. Yet all of these people
feel guilty at asking for help, they "don't want to be a burden", they
know more than most what a burden is.

These people I remember. Every last one of them. Not names, not
addresses, just the people, the love they show and the sacrifices they
make.

One day I will be one of these people.

Remember me.