The signs are rather subtle at first. And, perhaps we choose to ignore them rather then face the reality of our midlife sandwich. Somewhere along this middle part of our life journey most of us will be faced with not only parenting our children, but “parenting” our parents. Leaving us sandwiched between the two generations that mean the most to us besides our own and longing for a special sauce or condiment that will make this painful process more palatable.
Now in my forties the practicality of the fact that your parents won’t be with you forever is a blatant fact for myself and my friends. I guess the only upside is, now it’s not such a “lonely” club. However - still one that no one longs for membership. Yet it cannot be avoided. We are aging, our little ones are growing up faster with each passing day, and our own parents are gathering up the years too. At some point for many it will become inevitable that our parents need us to care for them.
At some point it becomes evident in your interactions with your parents. They slow down. Their actions remind you of your own grandparents. They can be more easily confused, frustrated or nervous. They can’t do all they once did. The TV has become deafening. A cane or walker fills the hands that not so long ago once held and helped your babies. Or worse, they become ill or have dementia issues. The list could goon and on. But, the fact remains, if we are midlifers, our parents are “old”. Varying degrees of mentally and physically old, but old, nonetheless.
With caring for an aging parent things can be stressed. As much as you long to help, they want not to need help. So often independence is important above what seems practical and right to you. Yet how do we tell our parents “no”? How do you flip that switch and become the one parenting? The one taking care of your parent like they took care of you. Transportation, meals, appointments, a trip to the market, etc., are just a few of the things that can become more complex. If one parent is already gone, it’s hard to see the other alone and it can be even create more difficulties. Hard to see them not full of the vim and vigor that used to surround them. It’s hard not to feel raw and vulnerable with this role reversal. It's hard not to begin grieving what was and no longer is.
About two weeks ago my Mom went through her third surgery in as many years. The first one being emergency that she was NOT expected to survive. This one “easier” of sorts. Yet, three years older and with all surgery having risks - we had to have “those conversations”. The ones about what their wishes are if there are complications and/ or once they are gone and the laundry list of things to do. I humored my Mom as she went though the “Need To Know” details, none of which, by the way, was news. Yet somehow it all needed to be said. I was fine with it. There wasn’t much concern for complications. Yet, sitting in that small pre-op room after they wheeled my Mommy away - left me feeling like a very little girl. Thinking what if......
Hours later, settled in a crowded room with beeping machines and flashing alarms, I camped out to mother my mom. Watching someone I love be in pain. Watching the woman whom I admire most needing help with tasks we all take for granted. Watching someone become “dependent” or “helpless” makes you all too aware of the fact that at some point, although I believe our soul lives on forever, at some point our earthly life has an end.
I am blessed. My Mom is doing well. I’m lucky. My role reversal was once again temporary.
Yet again, things have changed. A few days after my Mom’s surgery. We got word that my “aunt” had died in NY. My mother’s oldest and dearest friend. My mom is the last survivor of this circle of friends. Take note and take time. Say what you need to say. Do what you need to do. Because at anytime you could find that roles have reversed forever or that time's up.
I recently went through a scary incident with my mom and as the paramedics took her away I found myself crying at the top of the stairs and thinking that very same thing: "what if...." Those couple of hours until I knew anything were excruciating. I felt not much older than my own little girl who hugged me to comfort me as we waited to hear news about "Abuela."
ReplyDeleteLuckily, she recovered just fine and at 85 can still make the four flights of stairs to visit me. It was a scare that was a stinging reminder that she will not be around forever and forced me to think about how quickly someone you love can be with you and then gone.
As we get older, the reality of losing a parent is unavoidable. My heart aches for your loss Barbara. It's a grief that doesn't go away, you just learn to live with it.
Nothing can prepare you to lose those that mean the most to you. When you get a glimpse of that possibility - it can shake you to your core and have you on your knees in thanksgiving. Especially if you've known life after great loss. Written from the "heart" - nicely done.
ReplyDeleteThe hardest thing I ever did was let my mother go. She was an independent, strong woman all her life and at the end she was like a child, dependent on me for all of her care. She was devistated to be losing her dignity and control over her own life. She wanted to go and my sister and I had to let her. I miss her every day,but I'm happy knowing I did all I could and said all I needed to say to her. I suggest those of you lucky enough to have your parents, make the most of every minute.
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