As I have said before, I never got the chance to escort my parents into their "old age". My dad was a young eighty four year old who lived in his own home, drove everywhere (even interstate travels), piloted a large power yacht around the Puget Sound, and in general navigated his life with a certain level of octogenarian ease that most of us desire at that stage of our life. For the most part, he embraced technology and lived life as it presented itself. Except for a bout with prostate cancer (at age 71), the usual blood clot, and some mild heart disease, his health was good. And yet...he died unexpectedly while taking a "quick" nap before a meeting with his lawn guy.
My mom did have a serious health issue, emphysema, which required periodic use of supplemental oxygen. Despite this, she was active at her senior center, lived in her own home, and maintained a brilliant sense of humor. Her laugh was ( and still is with my two sisters) a real family treasure. When she started to laugh, you were drawn into a lightness of life that transcended any worries or hardships you were experiencing. She was a tiny gem that sparkled through her eyes right up to her final days. A brain tumor, and a series of strokes, took her at age seventy eight. Our parents, as every one's do, live on in their kids. My sisters shine with my mom's optimism, laughter, and incredible resiliency. My belief in community, whistling under my breath, and wry goofy humor comes from my dad. That's how it works.
Last week I had the privilege of helping my in-laws as they moved to a senior housing facility a mile from their current home. With this move, they completed a "ten block" rectangle of housing locations that spanned over 60 years. Four homes, two streets, one phone number. They could have stayed in their current home a few more years but, as they are prone to do, decided it was better to move a little bit early rather than a little too late. Mom decided it was time to "go through things" and simplify. Dad knew the days of tending a yard and garden were behind him. Neither wanted to move but intelligence, and wisdom, told them it was time.
They are both people who take tremendous pride in their home and family. A move to an apartment was both new and a bit sad. I tear up just writing this because I witnessed first hand how difficult a decision, and process, it was for them to make. A lifetime of memories (and mementos) reduced to wholesale exporting to family members, thrift stores, and garbage bins. My mother-in-law did not want her kids to have the burden of having to deal with this task. My father-in-law is a retired trial lawyer who would come home from work and "detour" to his garden before entering the house or taking off his suit. Probably to ward off a potential migraine, but certainly to acquire some sense of peace after a day in court. Together they raised eight kids, several surrogate children (including me the past 31 years), and have conducted their lives with a level of integrity few people achieve.
So, last week I went down to Denver to help any way I could. A few of the jobs were carpentry related so those were easy to accomplish. Mostly my work involved some small lifting and lending some moral support. I was glad I had the time to be there. It was an honor for me and helped me gain some understanding about my life and how we all "fit" together if we let HIS work unfold. Having the resources to make such a move is certainly a blessing, but relinquishing your "home", and yard, for an apartment is a sacrifice that should not be taken lightly by any of us "kids". We're all headed for the same decision some day. Some encouraging words won't dispel the feelings that go with such a decision. It takes a tremendous amount of courage to make a choice you know is right but...REALLY do not want to make. A choice that is 180 degrees from everything you have valued your whole life.
I am so blessed to be part of this family...
