Today someone told me the same thing again, with that thin smile and a tone that mixes condescension and contempt: Youre just washing other peoples lives. It isnt the first time theyve said it, and it probably wont be the last.
Before, I would have kept quiet, looked away, because I saw no point in arguing. This time, however, I decided to speak up.
Yes, I clean. But the people who toss the word around with mockery only see the surface. They dont grasp what lies beneath, because I do far more than simply wash.
I touch old age with tenderness, the care one uses when handling something fragile and helpless. I feed those who can no longer lift a spoon. I comb tangled hair, trim nails, help them into clothes. Sometimes I just sit beside them in silence when the pain is not in the body but in the soul. I listen to stories that no one else seems interested in, yet for them those tales are an entire world, memories that warm the final years.
I look after the folks who once lifted others, raised children, built houses, healed wounds, taught lessons and now they themselves need support. In these daily, routine acts there is no humiliation, only dignity. It isnt weakness, its honour.
This isnt dirty work. Its about humanity. About patience, love, and the ability to remain a human being when others turn their heads. When a person is powerless, dependent on someone for everything, true kindness is put to the test.
And when someone sneers, I think: they simply havent stood where help is needed. They believe strength lives in money, in a highpowered career, in status. But real strength is staying human beside anothers frailty, not turning away, not reviling, not demeaning.
I could never thrive in a place where I must pretend, flatter, or deceive for profit. Yet its often those very jobs that earn respect, while ours is undervalued, as if we sit below everyone else.
I know that isnt true. In our quiet there is dignity. In our hands there is warmth that restores a persons sense of self. In our work there is a heart that never tires of compassion.
One day those who disdain us will no longer be able to rise on their own. Perhaps then theyll understand: my work isnt about washing bodies. Its about returning humanity, a healing touch, a heat that reminds someone theyre still alive, still important, not forgotten.
Yes, I care for other peoples loved ones. I do it with respect, tenderness, and pride. Because maybe someday that will be me. Or them. And then, I hope, there will be someone nearby who does the same with love, without scorn, without fear, simply like a decent human being.
