I had a conversation with a dear friend that was both sobering and saddening. In our discussion about caring for aging parents, we shared the heartfelt confession that in trying to make the best of a difficult situation, we live with the guilt that our decisions killed our fathers. Not in the literal sense, but in the sense that in our helping it seemed to hurt one parent while it helped the other.
It would be disingenuous to simply blame our involvement in their lives on one parent's much-needed involvement but lack of willingness to deal with the other parent's difficulties. We saw our parents struggling and it was difficult not to parent them. And that's the crux of the matter. Our parents were beginning to need us in ways that we originally needed them.
It's an interesting if somewhat uncomfortable place to be. It also makes me think about the years ahead when my son could be put in the same situation; as well as about what I want for my old age. I'm thinking maybe an old fart's hippie commune. Ha! Ha! I need a little levity in the midst of this sobering conversation.
1 comment:
Well...as long as it's not a nudist commune I am sure your boy will happily oblige, whatever your desires are. As we've been going through the last days of life with my grandmother, it's brought up good conversation between me and my parents. It's nice to have an understanding in advance that you can {{try to}} stick to.
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