She was 98 and has now said goodbye

Ninety-eight is a good age, don't you think?
No blocks in the heart, no high or low in blood pressure, and probably no sugar going high either, or going low.
My grandmother's sister led a simple life. Landline phones were not that important to her, probably, and she loved walking, and that meant going to the place of worship and visiting her sister.
I just remember those parts that are in context related to me. And I have parts of memories that my aunts remember and narrate.
I remember my grandmother, her sister, and cousins, much younger, when their hair was darker and when they talked more and thought less in silence.
Is the silence an indication that they feel the current listeners cannot relate to their memories and have relevance?
When my grandmother said goodbye, I looked forward to meeting the grand aunt. There were selfish motives, too. Her cheeks reminded me of my grandmother — the touch, the voice, the tone, and most importantly, the memories of conversations between the two sisters.
Oh, the conversations were not based on news or TV shows; they were about yesteryear memories or happenings of the families. They were tight-knit. As a child, I loved just listening to them, visualising their childhood, and listening to the pride in their voice when they talked about their children. Yes, their lives revolved around their children and grandchildren, gardens and pets, and that could include cows too. They might have looked fragile but were strong.
She would have her quick walk to see her older sister just to have conversations and go back. I only have my selective memories, but they were so much more. Technology meant I could record my conversation with her because her details are mind-blowing, and they always took me to my comfort zone of childhood, where there were no deadlines and homework to submit. The days were endless, and I had no qualms about which month of the year it was. I didn't even know about the significance of festivals. They were just occasions where people worked harder and were chirpy and happy.
This year, the meeting and dialogues were parallel conversations. All she had to say was about how she urgently wanted to go to her ancestral house to see her sister and her cousins.
Suddenly, I felt homesick too.
It was not just the places you ran around when you were a child, but it was the feelings, the senses, and the smells; most importantly, the sense of comfort and the people who made it all special.
If you have ever been in a boarding school, you would be able to relate to the sentence, 'I want to go home.'
A friend was narrating his experience as his father struggles with Alzheimer's. There comes a stage, the experts say, when Alzheimer's patients stop speaking. And that was the stage my friend's father was at and when he had to be admitted to the hospital one day, the father, who had been silent, said three words that have become so precious for the son.
The father said, 'Take me home.'
It only reminds us how much must be left unsaid.
So the son said he does not talk anymore, but we talk to him every day.
Having lunch with a clinical psychologist, the conversation went to her job and how she spends talking to patients, and some of them are Alzheimer's patients.
She said, 'Keep talking to them. But if they cannot remember, don't ask them, 'Don't you remember?' Just continue to have the conversation.'
Conversations, experts say, are vital because they build relationships and provide social support, enhance emotional intelligence, promote learning and collaboration, and foster personal growth through self-discovery and exposure to new ideas. They help people feel understood and connected, leading to greater life satisfaction and well-being by facilitating the exchange of ideas, information, and emotions in both personal and professional contexts.
Most importantly, conversations are essential to combat loneliness. It is when we have a conversation with others that we understand what others are going through. We develop empathy, and we also learn in the process.