Visit family

The day before yesterday, I took a bus with my mother, aunt and aunt to see my grandmother and uncle who were fostered in the nursing home.
I remember when I was ten years old, I met my uncle and grandmother, and now I can remember her face clearly, when she was over eighty years old. My mother told me that she was sent to the nursing home by her daughter four years ago. She has lived there for more than six years. My uncle and grandmother should be in their prime.
We sat on the bus, and I sat in a seat near the window and looked out. It was gray and desolate everywhere. Looking at the distance, there are a few hills looming before we know that we have left our hometown. The hills were bare and lifeless. Only a few neat wheat fields under the hills are full of hope and green in the eyes. Mother and aunt were rocked asleep by the cradle car. This is the first time I’ve been out of town since I’m so old. So I feel fresh and curious. I dare not blink my eyes for fear of missing the beautiful scenery here. The farmer here gave us the same farmer there, mostly wheat, and a small piece of vegetables. I know it’s not far from the city, nor far from the home for the aged.
Soon, we got out of the car with gifts at the door of the nursing home. What we saw was the five big words “Blue Sky Home for the Elderly”, and my mother said that my uncle and grandmother were fostered here. The door was locked tightly by the big lock, and the people inside were invisible. It was cold and cold. We were thinking about how to open the door when suddenly a voice came from behind: “Are you coming to see the patients? What’s her name?” Then we told him one by one. He opened the door and we followed the man in. As soon as I got to the inner courtyard, I saw a young mental patient singing and dancing there, entertaining himself. No one watched it. If people outside were like monkeys, maybe people here were used to it and didn’t feel strange. I was watching. Suddenly, an old man with a crutch limped out of the room. He saw us coming. His eyes showed longing and envy. Perhaps he also longed for his relatives to visit him. They are isolated from the rest of the world. They are confined in the courtyard all day. They hear the administrator say that someone will go out and get lost if they don’t pay any attention. So they have to lock the door and move in the courtyard every day.
The administrator led us to my uncle’s and grandmother’s residence. Before my uncle and grandmother got up and saw us coming, the administrator asked the attendants inside to dress my uncle and grandmother. When my uncle and grandmother saw us coming, they immediately cried loudly, which made both my mother and my aunt cry, and I also began to cry unconsciously. No matter how persuaded the administrator, she could not stop crying. She cried so sadly. I think she was crying about the wrongs and abuses she had suffered here. I heard her mother say that people here love to beat and scold them. Maybe they cry excitedly or happily for our coming. It took a long time to stop crying. Then my mother and aunt helped my uncle and grandmother into the wheelchair and sat down. Then I could really see her face. It was not like what I saw a few years ago. Her face was swollen and deformed, her cheeks were crusted, her eyes were just a crack, her hair was shaved, and her feet were bare and swollen on slippers. It was like another person. I cried again. Is this the grandmother and uncle who used to fight for power and love to talk and laugh? I can’t believe that life tormented her so badly that she was totally different. She chatted with her aunt and aunt in unclear language, laughed when she said she was happy, and whined when she was sad, like an ignorant child. No wonder people often say “old turn small”, I just know the meaning of this sentence.
I couldn’t understand what she said, so I had to look at the rest of the room, the old people who were paralyzed in bed. Some of them are still lying in bed with their eyes open. Some half sat back against the bed and said nothing. Although they are old, they are not confused. Maybe they are waiting to die. I read their despair and helplessness in their eyes, and their boredom with life.
When it was time for us to leave, my uncle and grandmother burst into tears again. She sat in a wheelchair and held my hand tightly. Although I could not hear what she said, I could feel that she was holding me back. Aunt and aunt said to her, “We will come to see you often in the future.” Only then did she reluctantly release her hand. We waved goodbye to her. Just out of the courtyard, the door was locked again with a bang. When we looked back together, my mother said, “It’s not like a nursing home, like a prison!”
On the way back, my heart is not a taste, the gray face of my uncle and grandmother lingers in my mind, a difficult question always tosses in my mind: why do they let their mother suffer this crime, not only physically but also spiritually? At this time, I think of a song “Old is difficult”, I think this is a true portrayal of the life of the elderly in today’s society.