Seems like fate now. My first work was with older adults. And I trained as a hospice volunteer in my early twenties. Later, I was hired as a mental health counselor working with elders. Initially when I started visiting people in nursing homes I was depressed. Nursing homes are a sad facsimile of home. These institutions dressed up as shabby homes are rife with tragedy, decline, loneliness, fading beauty and gathering weakness. It was a lot to carry in my heart.
Still, in some cases these places hid the hidden gems of compassion and community. I like, most of us, was brainwashed by this cultures glamourising of all things new and young, of superficial beauty and physical prowess.. Gradually, through interactions with elders, looking them in the eyes, hearing their stories and regrets, I awoke from the fog of brainwashing. The shallow slick ways of perceiving people were worn away. Something gold and luminous shined through.
I came to cherish both the wisdom and depth of many elders as well as the lesson of looking beyond surfaces. My heart stretched – painfully and sweetly. My heart could, can, hold so much more than I knew possible. 
