*This post covers the topic of aging parents; I realize many readers may be grieving the loss of loved ones or struggling with the challenges that come with caring for aging parents. If this is a difficult or triggering topic for you, please take care and skip today’s offering.*
My mom loves the water. Like…loves it. She is the first person into the lake and the last one out of it. When everyone else is shivering on the beach, she’s blazing a trail straight into the frigid water.
She has loved being in – or near – water her entire life and uses any excuse to spend part of each summer day frolicking in the lake that’s mere steps from her front door. It is her happiest of Happy Places.
My parents have a raft just off shore and for as long as I can remember, Mom has loved to cannonball and do flips and summersaults. Long after she should have stopped putting that much pressure on her bad back, she persisted.
One afternoon last summer she was out swimming with A – the only person in our family who can match Mom’s stamina and love for the water. They were talking and splashing and I wasn’t paying much attention to their conversation until I heard one line loud and clear:
A, I think my cannonballing days are behind me.
Even typing those words makes me want to cry. When was Mom’s last cannonball? Was I there for it? Did she do it for fun someday when she was swimming alone, or was her final splash directed toward a giggling grandchild?
It’s so hard to think about forever goodbyes, but it’s also painful to say goodbye in stages.
Little goodbyes still hurt.
This fall I was cleaning out some items in our basement when I came across my parents’ skates. Since they now spend their winters living near us, they started storing their skates at our house years ago. I called my dad and asked what he wanted done with the skates and he said: Well, our skating days are over. You might as well donate them.
*Sob*
How many Saturday mornings did I spend at the rink with my parents? How many bitterly cold January afternoons did we walk across our neighbour’s lawn to reach the tiny pond where I learned to skate? What about those winter “picnics” when we would skate for hours on a local lake, packing lunches in bags strapped to our backs?
My heart broke in a few places when I added their skates to our Donate pile. There will be no more skating; those days are behind them.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, I’m saying goodbye to my kids too. I can’t remember the last time I buckled a car seat, changed a diaper, or gave a bottle. I don’t miss any of those responsibilities, but I feel wistful about what they represent. Kids get taller and more independent; parents shrink and hang up their skates and stop splashing.
And that’s a sad and lovely and wholly bittersweet reality.
Header photo by Tim Foster on Unsplash
Beckett @ Birchwood Pie
My parents are in ridiculously good health which I don’t take for granted for one minute. Some of it is genetic and some of it is lifestyle – I’m thankful for the genes and appreciate the choices they’ve made on the lifestyle part. But they are 80, and I feel the clock ticking. I just hope that they have many more good years.
Those kids tho…yes they are growing up. That’s the fun part. We get to sit back and watch what they do next.
Elisabeth
I’m so glad your parents are still so healthy and strong. What a gift! I know I am so, so fortunate that both my parents are living (my grandfather’s passed when my parents were young, so I realize to get to this point is to be treasured). They do take good care of their health it just feels like in the last few years I have really started to think about how there is a timeline on this. There won’t be unlimited Christmases or birthdays with them, still. Obviously no day is guaranteed to any of us and I could pass before they do, but I just found reflecting on these little goodbyes to be sobering.
Sarah
Having experienced the alternative, I do think this slow process is more humane and much, much gentler. Still hard, though. This is a lovely post.
Elisabeth
Oh Sarah, I want to wrap you up in a giant hug. You have walked such a hard path of grief.
I am so thankful that we are getting to walk this journey slowly and I try to make the most of this blessing by seeing my parents often and embracing the joys of their presence now. I am so, so fortunate and hope I honour what others have lost by treasuring and celebrating what I’m so blessed to have.
Hugs, my friend <3
Jan Coates
Such poignant thoughts. Love the image of your mum and A at the lake. To me, it sounds like your parents are being sensible and aging gracefully. As always, I wish my parents had had the opportunity to grow old(er) than 65, 70:)
Elisabeth
I wish your parents had many more years, Jan. It is hard to say goodbye long before we’re ready.
My parents both lost their fathers when they were young, so I think I’m especially sensitive to the fact my kids are so, so fortunate to know all their grandparents. And how blessed I am to have both my parents living. My mom was 7 when her dad passed; my dad 14.
Nicole MacPherson
OMG ARE WE THE SAME PERSON. I just was writing something about that poem, I’m sure you’ve seen it, that talks about “the last time” in parenting. It’s kind of lame but it addresses “sometime there will be a last time and you won’t know it.” Anyway, that’s so funny because we are on the same wavelength.
Also, oof on the parents. I get this, both with my parents and my MIL. It’s hard to see them aging and living within new physical boundaries. Your mom sounds really cool, by the way. My mom is not a swimmer so it made me smile to think of your mom doing flips into a lake.
Elisabeth
We almost never know the last time for…anything. I can still pick L up, but I know the last time for that will be soon! He’s so tall. And I certainly can’t put him on my hip anymore. He was a fixture there for years. Sometimes these transitions are without fanfare but then you look back and remember: wow, that stage is just…over.
My mom is very cool (not cool in the “hip” way mind you – but cool as in a genuinely caring, sweet, lovely personality who happens to love splashing people in the water!)
Kyria @ Travel Spot
Ug, I am feeling your pain right now. My parents are still “young” at not quite 70, but they are definitely slowing down. The other thing is that they are at that stage where they talk about doctors and aches and pains. My Dad still skis once a week and my Mom does a weekly hike with a friend, but they are not really climbing mountains anymore and are definitely long past their cannonball days. I am so glad that they are still around, and that they have the energy to do little things, but it is so hard to see a once strong person have to say no to things that you (and likely they) always took for granted. Also both of my parents fathers passed when they were 60, so every day after that that my parents are around feels like a blessing!
Elisabeth
I’ve noticed big changes in my parents physical pace the last few years (now mid-70s). You’re so right about taking their ability to do things for granted. I think it has been extra odd since my parents having to say No has coincided with my kids growing up and saying Yes. It’s this weird juxtaposition of roles and abilities.
My grandfather’s both passed when they were in their 40s, so my parents have lived almost DOUBLE the age their father’s got to which is just amazing. I think of that often and I’m so, so thankful I had my parents throughout my formative years and now them being there for my own kids. Such a gift.
ccr in MA
Oh, it is so, so hard. My mother is 85 and her mother lived to 105, so we may have many more years, but we both know there is no guarantee. And she is definitely both slowing down, and very frustrated about slowing down, which is hard on both of us. It sounds like your parents are, at least in the faces they show to you, sort of at peace with getting to this stage? I hope that’s true.
Mom and I were just talking last night about how going suddenly is probably easier on the person but harder on the family, while a long-drawn-out decline gives the family time, but can be harder on the person. We agreed that they are both horrible, really, just differently horrible. Which sounds pessimistic, but you know what I mean.
Elisabeth
It is SO hard to be a caregiver when someone is struggling with the new limitations. It must be so frustrating to see once-easy things become so hard.
My parents do both handle it mostly with grace; I think it frustrates them because they love to be active (for example, my mom looooves to walk, but she really struggles to do that now because of some back issues). Their minds are young but sometimes their bodies don’t allow them to do all their head wishes they could.
I know what you mean. Aging and life/death and everything in between is complicated and such a mix of emotions. A lot of it is just plain…hard.
Jenny
Life is so strange sometimes. You have kids, and then for the rest of your life (I assume- I know it’s true up to this point) you’re grieving all the “last times.” I mean- the WHOLE POINT is that they grow up, and yet it’s incredibly hard for us. And parents- we know they’re going to age, but it’s still so hard to see. We know we’re going to lose them, but when it happens it’s shocking. I don’t know the answer to this- it seems like these things should be easier, but they’re so difficult. One thing you’re doing right is spending so much quality time with your parents- you’ll never, ever regret a single moment you spend with them now. Sigh.
Elisabeth
We bring them up to let them go. Such a weird concept?!
I think because my parents have not had any major health scares it’s only now – in the last few years – where I realize, it could happen any time. And, again, this is true for me too. I could have a heart attack tonight or get in a car accident tomorrow. BUT, statistically, I realize that my parents life is naturally limited by their ages. And goodness, that’s just really hard to think about. It’s finding that balance of embracing today while also trying to protect myself a bit from the future pain. But I guess that’s wholly impossible. So mostly I’m trying to embrace today. I had lunch with them this week and that was just really lovely. I had work I should have been doing, but I said no to that and yes to mom’s home cooking and I don’t think I’ll ever regret that.
Grateful Kae
Ugh, this topic. Not that it’s not a great blog post topic, but it’s just… ugh. I have been thinking about this more and more lately. My parents both just turned 73 and are generally in very good shape and health. But, my mom has had a few issues this fall (including her broken shoulder and a couple other more chronic type issues) and my dad has been having sciatica issues that are suddenly and VERY frustratingly slowing him down. He is used to being extremely active, usually walks 4 miles a day at the gym, etc. So this has been very hard. It’s also hard for me to not keep thinking about the passage of time in general. For example, I’ll think about how it feels like just yesterday Asher was a baby. Well, that was 14 years ago! In ANOTHER 14 years, my parents will be… 87. Whoa. And of course, no one knows how many days any of us have, but the older you get, the more the odds sort of start stacking against you, too. Then, I also struggle with sometimes feeling like I’m “too busy” to always either spend as much time with them or call them, etc as I maybe “should”… and then I feel extreme guilt almost over this when this happens. For example, if I’m just tired and don’t really “feel like” calling my mom back to chit chat and would rather just zone out and listen to a podcast, I’ll have guilty thoughts like, “Oh gosh, but some day she’ll be gone and I’m sure then I would give anything to be able to call her…”. Things like that. I really just wish I could freeze time, like maybe 5 years ago. I think about 65 was the perfect age for my parents. 60s still seems “young”, but they were both retired already. Now in their 70s- and approaching mid-70s- it’s gotten into that “wary zone” for me. Like at any moment the shoe could drop and there could be a sudden medical issue or diagnosis or something that could be life changing. (I realize this is a possibility for all of us, at any time. But it feels more pronounced I guess with aging parents.) I’m really just so grateful that my parents have been SO generally healthy and active- and that we’ve done such great travels with them over the years. I’m glad we’ve fit in active trips like hiking in Costa Rica and Utah etc while they were able bodied and could enjoy with us!
Elisabeth
Kae, just yes to ALL OF this.
I also feel like I was in a dream zone when they were in their early to mid-60s. My kids were young, they were still very active (they never travelled the world until their 60s, actually!!). They packed a lot into that decade, but their issues now are never going to be “fixed.” My mom’s back issues are basically unfixable. This is life and they are SO fortunate. But, like you said, it just feels like such a “wary” zone now. I resonated with everything you said – including that “guilt” factor about feeling like I need to seize every opportunity because it “could be the last.”
Ernie
Your mom sounds amazing. So fun. I love it.
It is hard when things shift and there are limits to what our parents are able to do. My mom has Alzheimer’s and I don’t remember our last conversation when she was able to weigh in and offer advice or guidance. I’m grateful for the latest medications, because she is doing quite well overall. She still knows us and follows what we are doing. She knows about Reg’s basketball ordeal and she comes to many of the home games.
While I miss cuddling with my toddlers to read with them, I embrace this time as they move towards being grown ups. The conversations and the laughs and the support are so special.
Elisabeth
My mom is awesome. If there are bright spots in my own personality, most would point back to my parents. I’m fortunate to have had very loving, invested parents.
Dementia and any form of memory loss (Alzheimer’s etc) is so tragic. My maternal grandmother had serious dementia for almost 20 years. It is so hard. The person in front of you doesn’t match any more. They don’t share the same memories and it is, in a way, a form of grieving. You lose them not just in stages but in a complete form of relationship. I’m so sorry, Ernie. Memory loss is such a cruel brain disease. I’m sure she appreciates your closeness and comfort, even if she can’t engage fully in your relationship anymore. *Hugs <3*
Erica
I know just what you mean, and this hits me so hard with my children. At almost four, my daughter still has a “bottle” – a sippy cup of milk that she drinks while snuggling on my lap – before bed every night. Last night she said very seriously, “I will have a bottle with you forever, Mommy.” It was sweet but sad, because of course someday she will not want this closeness, and someday (hopefully a long time after that) I will not be around to give it to her. I know that her growing up will (and already has) yield so much joy, but there is also sadness in loving someone who is, from the literal moment of their birth, constantly moving away from you.
Elisabeth
That is the sweetest thing: “A bottle forever.” If that doesn’t melt the heart, I don’t know what would.
Oh the bottle. That was the HARDEST for me the let you. I loved that nighttime snuggle. There is nothing like it. I still sometimes sneak in after L is asleep and snuggle in beside him and take in these long deep breaths because just in those quiet moments he still smells like a toddler. That warm, deep slumber is just my favourite – hearing the deep breathing and kissing his little cheek. Gah. He’ll have FACIAL HAIR IN A FEW YEARS AND WHERE WILL THOSE SOFT CHEEKS BE FOR ME THERE. And A is in full on tween-mode and doing so much independently. The days can be long but the years are so, so short.
Ally Bean
It really is how you say good-bye to your parents, in stages, as they slowly decline and you become the adult. I’m glad you’re aware of this so you understand the process, not that it makes it any easier, but there is a comfort in looking reality straight in the eye. Or at least there was for me.
Elisabeth
But what if I’m not ready to be an adult?!
Honestly, sometimes I still feel like I’m a teenager myself. Who allowed me to take care of other HUMANS and manage my own bank account?!
And yes. I try to balance the reality with celebrating what we have now. It hurts to think about the future, but we are also pragmatic and have planned out some end-of-life things to make that inevitable experience just a bit less painful for everyone.
NGS
My father died unexpectedly at age 56. I remember thinking that I wish I could remember the last times with him, but I just couldn’t. Now my mother is getting older and I spend each time I’m with her wondering “is this the last time she’ll recommend I buy an inappropriate color of lipstick?” or “is this the last time she’ll cook for me?” (actual thoughts I’ve had) and I honestly don’t know which way is worse. They’re both bad, I guess.
Elisabeth
I think you’re right. Loss is loss. It’s all hard. Different, yes, but still just hard. Saying goodbye sucks.
It IS better to love and lose than to never love, but it doesn’t mean love doesn’t ultimately often cause the deepest wounds. The more we love someone, the more we’re going to miss their absence.
Aren’t I just a ball of joy and lightness today…
I have to add that I did laugh out loud about the “inappropriate colour of lipstick.” I can 100% picture a mom doing this (not mine – she doesn’t – and never has – worn makeup).
coco
this is a beautiful post! Every parent, every child, every friend that we lose (as person or some part of them or stage of their life) is sad and beautiful. pausing to enjoy it when it happens, it’s a way to remember them and live them more deeply.
it also reminds me how I am aging and how much of what I can do today will fade in few years/decades. The temporary nature of things make it more beautiful.
Kyria @ Travel Spot
I have to comment again, as Kae’s comment really was spot on! That feeling of guilt is hard! Hopefully my parents will be around for 20 or 30 more years, but I still can’t help feeling (now!) like each day could be their last.
Elisabeth
Yup. And maybe part of having aging parents is coming to realize that this is true for every relationship. Today could be my last days with my husband or kids, too.
It’s impossible to live in that mindset all the time – life has to move on and we can’t be stuck in a holding pattern. But, also, to make these little tweaks to say the I Love You, or make the call.
Suzanne
This is so beautiful and heartbreaking, Elisabeth. I feel every inch of your feelings. I find it so difficult to be in the moment when I know that there’s an ending… even though I should do exactly the opposite. Beautiful post. <3
Lisa’s Yarns
I have thought about the ‘last moments’ for my kids but hadn’t thought about it with my parents. Such a poignant post! My parents are 75/76 and both are in great health, especially my mom. But I know that can change in the blink of an eye so I try not to take it for granted. But that is easier said than done!
My grandma will turn 101 in May and I would say that she wishes she had passed… most of her friends have passed, she’s lost a child and her husband. I think she would be happy to pass peacefully at any point. She can’t see well due to macular degeneration and her hearing isn’t great either. So her passing will be really unique for me. I will feel sad but I will kind of be relieved for her as odd as that sounds? She’s squeezed all the life there is to squeeze and is ready to go to a place of eternal rest.
Elisabeth
It feels like the more we try to pay attention to the moments, the less “real” they can seem. It’s a tricky balance – I guess I’m just trying to acknowledge the future and the inevitability of change, while trying to embrace the current reality (and not let that future change tarnish the joy I can find in the here and now).
It is so hard to be around when your loved ones are gone; I feel for your poor grandmother and hope she has a gentle passing.
San
Elisabeth, this is something that’s been on my mind a lot more in recent years and the fact that I am not seeing my parents that often makes this whole thing even harder. I catch myself looking for “changes” whenever I go visit and while both my parents are in pretty good health, I am so acutely aware that they won’t be forever.
It hit home for me last year when they came to visit and we were hiking in the National Parks. We did one of the harder hikes (up to Delicate Arch in Arches National Park) and I was so proud of my parents for conquering that hike and we had such a good time, but when we got back to the car, my mom said soberly “this was the last time I did this”. Ugh. Punch in the gut. I do hope we’ll have many, many good years, but there’s no guarantees.
Elisabeth
Oof. It’s so hard, isn’t it. To think that was actually the very last time for something. It’s very sobering. And just sad to think of anything, really, being done forever 🙁
Stephany
This is a topic that is constantly on my mind because it’s where my anxiety lives: Knowing that it is entirely possible that I could unexpectedly lose my mom or my brother or my best friend. Often, I will leave a fun day out with my mom and immediately worry, “What if that was the last time for us?” It’s something I have gotten better about NOT dwelling on and it’s because of a lot of mindset shifts and recognizing that worrying about this INCESSANTLY is not a helpful exercise.
I am lucky that my mom is young – not even 60! – and in relatively good health. And she sees a doctor/gets bloodwork done on a very regular basis so if someone WAS wrong, we would hopefully catch it early enough. The older she gets, the more she looks like my grandma, so that’s been the biggest “aging” thing I’ve noticed. It’s a hard thing to watch our parents age, but what a beautiful gift, too. <3
Elisabeth
You’re right – it is also such a gift. The pain (now and future) is offset by knowing it is SUCH a blessing to still have a parent around – so many have lost loved ones at an early age and my heart aches about that.
Anne
This is so poignant, and so true, Elisabeth. Like you, and others, I worry that every time is “the last time” for something. Just yesterday, I was talking with a friend who is almost 50 and whose grandmother is still living. She has developed dementia in recent years, but still knows my friend, her sisters (also my friends), and their children. By contrast, my father’s parents both died before I could remember them (though there are pictures), and my mother’s father had severe dementia for 25 years before dying, which precluded me ever knowing him as he was before its onset.
I am so glad you treasure these times with your parents. Share as many laughs, hugs, holidays, and every days as you can. <3