Photo Source: Unsplash When I was young, and by that I mean from twenty to sixty, I hardly thought about old people. Grandma was sweet and taken for granted and by the time she died, I lived far away, was married, dealing with a job I hated, a marriage that wouldn’t last, and involved with just living. She and I wrote letters, that was it; long distance calls were expensive. Aunts and uncles, again far away, were pleasant memories from childhood. As they grew old and eventually died, I...