I am sorry to disappoint you, but this is not a narrative about a crush I have in college or about that time he finally looked at me. This is an account of one of the saddest moments I have ever experienced and it ends with an important message.

At 7 p.m. on a Sunday night, I sat in the back of a nursing homes’ dining hall and silently cried as a band composed of 50 year olds sang “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” to their 97 year old mother for her birthday. The song, although beautiful and full of so many memories, was not the reason for my silent sobs. Moments before the band began their song, I rolled an older woman into the room to watch the performance. She was an ancient looking woman with wispy white hair and the softest blue eyes. She, much like the other elderly individuals I chose to volunteer to assist every week, had a myriad of complaints. Her complaints ranged from subtle hunger to mild coldness. As she spoke, I listened to every single word she uttered. I looked her in the eyes as she spoke because that is the kindness I would extend to anyone. I paid attention to everything she said because that is the simple kindness anyone could/should provide to a stranger. I did what I could for her with the little power I had. I told her that she had a snack in her room and wheeled her away from the industrial fan. Before I could attend to another patient, she grabbed my sleeve and extended a thank you.

“Thank you for looking at me”, she spoke slowly, “No one else here does”.

The moment the words left her lips, my eyes filled with tears. I realized that what she stated was entirely too true. The older a person gets, the less respect they receive. The elderly, the people who contain so much important first hand information and experience, are treated like toddlers or house pets. Few seem to care about their thoughts or opinions.

Her words made me question every interaction I had ever had with an older person. How many times had I ignored the words of people older than me? How many times had I ignored their warnings? How many times had I giggled at my parents aches and pains? How many times did I really look them in the eyes as they spoke ? How many older people had I ignored simply because they were “old”?

As a generation, we, generation Z, often lack respect for our elders. We ignore them because “they don’t get it” or because we believe they cannot relate to our problems. We ignore the fact that our parents are aging just as we do. We visit our grandparents less than we visit the dentist.

We do not appreciate our elderly until they’re dying or dead.

I promised in the beginning of this that there would be a message at the end. It’s quite simple, we cannot ignore those of the generations before us. They, like everyone else, deserve our respect and appreciation.