A friend and I were discussing how we don’t want to be a burden on our children, loading them with the neediness that comes with age. Our children are fully occupied by building their own lives.
It’s no secret that as we get older, we have increasing needs. Sometimes I want to talk over a personal issue with somebody who knows me, loves me, and truly cares — someone I trust. Particularly if we’ve lost our long-term reliable partner, we naturally turn to family or close friends.
My father and elder brother died from dementia. It’s possibly in my own future. I’ve talked with my children about finishing my life early, while I’m still able if I know I have dementia. I do not want my children to go through what I went through caregiving for my wife as she slowly faded from this world. The other side is that my caregiving experience was an unexpected and stunningly beautiful gift from my wife. I’m a much different — and I believe much better — person because of that caregiving experience. My children have noticed that. My daughters both agree that when I am ready, they would like me to live with them.
Too Much Love?
Just thinking about that overwhelms me. It’s a stunning expression of love and care, particularly from people who saw me go through caregiving for my late wife. They know what it takes. My daughters believe they are prepared to do that for me.
But do I want my children taking care of (a demented) me? Over the years since my wife died, my children and I have discussed this. They know my thoughts, concerns, and wishes. But these discussions are complicated by my children’s inexperience. They have not lost their parents — yet.
Standing Alone
Even if you are middle-aged and independent, I don’t believe you can conceive how life is without mom and dad — until it happens. It’s like the difference between imagining children and having children. You have to be there.
We who lost our parents long ago understand that losing parents is a natural part of life. My father died from early dementia. When my mother died 15 years later, it took me about two years to cease regular conversations with her in my mind. It’s difficult removing living parents from your world view. Of course, parents don’t really disappear. None of us fully disappear until those who remember us disappear. But when that person who will support you in every known way is gone, your sense of aloneness sharpens. Now your self-portrait puts you next in line to step through life’s final door. Yes, we see that we accept that (more or less), and we move on.
Daily Needs
But I’m getting ahead of myself. My immediate neediness is a lot simpler, the regular self-assuring phone call, talking through my latest frustrations, getting a suggestion on what to do — from somebody who knows me and cares deeply for my well-being. As we age, how do we satisfy our appropriate needs and expectations, without loading our children’s busy and preoccupied lives?
I don’t see a simple answer. Sharing and helping with each other’s needs is part of our ongoing relationship and discussions. A certain amount is healthy. On the other hand, I don’t want to make my needs seem bigger than they should be. Most of all, I don’t want my developing needs to burden my children — or even lurk around as a background worry — as they get on with their busy lives.
I’m retired and relatively burden-free. I have the time to mull over these questions. But it’s beautiful and reassuring to know that I can share my thoughts and concerns and learn from my children. We have so much to offer each other.
Is this ironic? Are emerging needs and burdens more opportunities for expanding love and relationships?
Thank you for reading along with me. As always, I’d appreciate and value your thoughts and experiences. How do you think about managing or discussing your developing needs with your family?
me, Barry Phegan
