The Reception Hall (Short Story)

The Reception Hall (A tete-a-tete)

There I was in front of another patient in the reception room. I had to while away forty minutes waiting. This was before the Corona virus pandemic and so we could chitchat without the masks and all that hoopla. Of course, the privacy regulations of healthcare (HIPPA) were in force already.

“Hi, how are you? Are you too waiting for the physical therapy?”

“I am alright. My daughter is getting the therapy. Actually first I’ve to get spinal surgery done and then follow it up with post operative PT.”

“Your daughter, she must be young?”

“Yea, she is young but with modern computer screens, etc., they develop neck or shoulder pains quickly. And that’s why she is getting some massage and exercise.”

“You must be from here, I suppose. I mean locally from Fayetteville, this part of Finger Lakes.”

“I am and I am not. Originally I graduated from here, studied Environmental Science. Got a job and married and all that. Then got separated and now I am trying to connect with my daughter. I left my job here and went to Rochester to live with my parents.”

“You did. Why? What happened?”

“Well my parents both needed home care in their twilight years. First it was my father, he was in wheelchair and needed full time supervision. I did not want to put him in some old age nursing home and leave his fate to careless caregivers. So, I left my job and went to live with them in the Kodak city.”

“Was it difficult for you? Making the decision, the financial burden and daily work.”

“It was. But I had to do it. As parents they did everything for me while growing up. They did without expecting anything from us.”

“But, still you had to do the cooking, cleaning bed, and bath.”

“Yes, father was ok till the last one year or six months. Then he went downhill rapidly, with the loss of bodily functions and memory. I did not mind the work. But slowly I became more understanding. It can happen to anybody. He was a proud father, came up through bootstraps, and he provided us with everything.”

“And then you provided the same care to mother also?”

“Yes. They both were good friends and supported each other. After father’s passing, she barely lived couple of years. But I am fortunate to be with them during their last days.”

“Looks, now you’ve to pick up the pieces. What? How long it has been?”

“Now I will come back here and look for a job after almost six years. This is where I still have a few friends. And most of all I like the peaceful beautiful nature around.”

“Yea, I too am captivated by the clean lakes, the fall colors, and clean air. No complaints about the vibrant nature around. Your work is close to nature, I suppose.”

“We do environmental assessment, its impact by new developments, construction, and the safeguarding of fresh water lakes. We are trying to drastically reduce the use of salt in winter and its spillage into the streams and creeks around.”

“I see. So, I cannot blame the PWD if there is a bit of snow and roads less passable in winter. We just have to cope up with it with less salt. Just learn to drive cautiously, I suppose.”

We’re almost close to our conversation. His last words still ring in my mind and they’re etched forever in memory.

“My parents did the diapers, tolerating my cranky childhood tantrums, fed, and educated me up to college. At least I took care of them in their neediest moments. If I have to do it again, I’ll do it without the slightest twinge.”

So, here is an educated gentleman who put his life on hold to serve elderly parents. Maybe there were some assets involved or it could involve minor obligations for the son. But still in this age who would do it? I’ve seen some families shunting off their decrepit mother or father to the nearest nursing home shirking off familial responsibilities. It is happening now in the Indian subcontinent back home too. 

I think I understand these difficult issues by reading Ramayana (Sravana Kumar) or Panduranga’s life. How mistaken I was! They say every society will be judged finally by the care shown to children and elderly parents. No wonder – the Green Lakes, the intense azure blue skies, and the bountiful apple trees bear a testimony to my friend’s goodness and love towards his parents. As they say, some are always like want, want; and some others know nothing but giving. (To All the wonderful Fathers. Father's Day falls on the third Sunday in June here.) Copyright 2026 by the author