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arguchiki'm having this weird...guilt/reluctance complex, where visiting my parents is concerned. i've been staying with my sister jan, who lives in the bustling metropolis of hudsonville, michigan, and driving over to wyoming, which is where my parents live (in the same house where i was born and reared, actually). (wyoming is a suburb of grand rapids, in case you were confused. i've heard they have a state with that name, too...) i've also driven over to my sister barb's house in GR proper. (i won't get to visit my brother pat's house in dearborn on this trip--often when i visit michigan, i'll fly into detroit metro and stay at my brothers for a couple of days, then hitch a ride to GR with him.)
my parents are just not able to handle visits of longer than half an hour to an hour. it's hard for me to handle much more of a visit than that, too (my sisters and my brother report the same thing). they can't sustain conversations anymore, and they start to drift away and get confused when someone "strange" hangs out in their space for very long. it's really...i feel very conflicted, because i'm in michigan, ostensibly, to visit my parents. they are old. they aren't going to be "with us" for that much longer, probably. even if they live for several more years, who knows how much longer they'll even register my visits? as i wrote the other day, my dad doesn't even remember who i am anymore, and needs significant prodding to remember for just 5 minutes that he even has a kid named "sharon."
so i'm reluctant to go over to their house. it's depressing and it seems to upset them. and i feel guilty, because i live so far away that i'm simply not a regular enough part of their world anymore, for them to feel comfortable having me around. i also feel guilty because of my reluctance to go over there and spend time with them.
i think i just have to accept that the era for spending "quality time" with them has passed. they are not the same people anymore, and they never will be again. i can't have an adult relationship with them anymore; we can't talk through our past misunderstandings and work toward a better understanding of each other; our relationship can't grow in that way anymore, it can only change into this other kind of relationship that, unfortunately, is not what they want and not what i want. my responsibility now, along with my siblings, is to do what i/we can to help ensure that they are as safe and as happy as possible, even if that means taking control of all of their major responsibilities and decisions.
but i don't like it. it feels like we're all on a deathwatch or something. and i know how mortified my parents would be, if they could fully register what's happening to them. it's hard not to think that they can register it, on some level, not to think that their "real selves" are watching from somewhere, helpless to protest--and therein lies yet more guilt. my siblings and i are invading their privacy, stealing their dignity, reducing them to the status of our wards. even though i know intellectually that we're helping to ensure that they keep as much dignity as possible, for as long as possible, it's hard not to feel like we're doing just the opposite.
another aspect of guilt comes in because my parents' dementia really scares me--not just because they are forgetting their kids and their lives, but because...i mean, face it. they are my parents. they are both losing their memories. genetically, is that a double-whammy for me and my siblings? i can think of worse ways to manifest aging and impending death (what they now call "senescence," a term i associate with trees losing their leaves in autumn), but this particular form of senescence scares me a lot, for several reasons. first and foremost, i am (trying) to develop a career as an intellectual. secondly, i've been noticing some sluggishness in my own memory over the last year or two--it's probably stress-related (see my posts over the last year+) and largely reversible (provided i de-stress, which i'm working on), but it's difficult not to worry that it portends something more catastrophic. finally--and this is a really complicated tangle, so please keep in mind that i'm barely scratching the surface of it here--it is hard not to compare/contrast my parents' situation with my own. they have 4 surviving kids who are looking out for them and working together to figure out how to act on their behalf; we love our parents, and none of us has any interest in profiting from their decline and eventual demise. now...i'm the youngest in my family (by 8-10 years), and i'm probably never going to have any children. it's hard not to wonder who will look out for me, like my siblings and i are looking out for our parents, when i'm old. who's going to protect me from the various people out there who prey--legally and illegally--on the elderly? i know, i know--i'm only 40! i could still pre-decease my parents, not to mention all of my siblings (that's a lesson i learned at 18, when my eldest sister died unexpectedly); i could still adopt or...theoretically...bear children; all kinds of things could happen, and it's pointless to worry about stuff like this when i'm only 40. i know, i know, i know. but "knowing" isn't the same as being convinced, much less feeling convinced, and it's hard not to feel this way, not to worry, when i'm facing the reality of my parents' current state. worrying about them, coming to terms with their situation, their extreme vulnerability, and with the sharply truncated possibilities for, and newly harsh limitations on, my ever-evolving relationship with them, opens up many other "worry pathways" in my mind and heart. if my past experiences with loss and mourning are any indication, i will probably, eventually, experience an opening up and renewal of the "beauty pathways," the ones that help me to be thankful for and to appreciate what i have instead of simply worrying about what i'm going to lose; unfortunately, that hasn't happened yet, and i guess i have no guarantee that it will happen, this time. in any case, i can't force that to happen. it's part of the grieving process, but not usually an early part (to the extent that early-middle-late grief follows any kind of a predictable narrative line). i have to take things one day at a time, and give myself permission to fully feel whatever i feel--without passing judgment on myself--at every step along the way.
my parents are just not able to handle visits of longer than half an hour to an hour. it's hard for me to handle much more of a visit than that, too (my sisters and my brother report the same thing). they can't sustain conversations anymore, and they start to drift away and get confused when someone "strange" hangs out in their space for very long. it's really...i feel very conflicted, because i'm in michigan, ostensibly, to visit my parents. they are old. they aren't going to be "with us" for that much longer, probably. even if they live for several more years, who knows how much longer they'll even register my visits? as i wrote the other day, my dad doesn't even remember who i am anymore, and needs significant prodding to remember for just 5 minutes that he even has a kid named "sharon."
so i'm reluctant to go over to their house. it's depressing and it seems to upset them. and i feel guilty, because i live so far away that i'm simply not a regular enough part of their world anymore, for them to feel comfortable having me around. i also feel guilty because of my reluctance to go over there and spend time with them.
i think i just have to accept that the era for spending "quality time" with them has passed. they are not the same people anymore, and they never will be again. i can't have an adult relationship with them anymore; we can't talk through our past misunderstandings and work toward a better understanding of each other; our relationship can't grow in that way anymore, it can only change into this other kind of relationship that, unfortunately, is not what they want and not what i want. my responsibility now, along with my siblings, is to do what i/we can to help ensure that they are as safe and as happy as possible, even if that means taking control of all of their major responsibilities and decisions.
but i don't like it. it feels like we're all on a deathwatch or something. and i know how mortified my parents would be, if they could fully register what's happening to them. it's hard not to think that they can register it, on some level, not to think that their "real selves" are watching from somewhere, helpless to protest--and therein lies yet more guilt. my siblings and i are invading their privacy, stealing their dignity, reducing them to the status of our wards. even though i know intellectually that we're helping to ensure that they keep as much dignity as possible, for as long as possible, it's hard not to feel like we're doing just the opposite.
another aspect of guilt comes in because my parents' dementia really scares me--not just because they are forgetting their kids and their lives, but because...i mean, face it. they are my parents. they are both losing their memories. genetically, is that a double-whammy for me and my siblings? i can think of worse ways to manifest aging and impending death (what they now call "senescence," a term i associate with trees losing their leaves in autumn), but this particular form of senescence scares me a lot, for several reasons. first and foremost, i am (trying) to develop a career as an intellectual. secondly, i've been noticing some sluggishness in my own memory over the last year or two--it's probably stress-related (see my posts over the last year+) and largely reversible (provided i de-stress, which i'm working on), but it's difficult not to worry that it portends something more catastrophic. finally--and this is a really complicated tangle, so please keep in mind that i'm barely scratching the surface of it here--it is hard not to compare/contrast my parents' situation with my own. they have 4 surviving kids who are looking out for them and working together to figure out how to act on their behalf; we love our parents, and none of us has any interest in profiting from their decline and eventual demise. now...i'm the youngest in my family (by 8-10 years), and i'm probably never going to have any children. it's hard not to wonder who will look out for me, like my siblings and i are looking out for our parents, when i'm old. who's going to protect me from the various people out there who prey--legally and illegally--on the elderly? i know, i know--i'm only 40! i could still pre-decease my parents, not to mention all of my siblings (that's a lesson i learned at 18, when my eldest sister died unexpectedly); i could still adopt or...theoretically...bear children; all kinds of things could happen, and it's pointless to worry about stuff like this when i'm only 40. i know, i know, i know. but "knowing" isn't the same as being convinced, much less feeling convinced, and it's hard not to feel this way, not to worry, when i'm facing the reality of my parents' current state. worrying about them, coming to terms with their situation, their extreme vulnerability, and with the sharply truncated possibilities for, and newly harsh limitations on, my ever-evolving relationship with them, opens up many other "worry pathways" in my mind and heart. if my past experiences with loss and mourning are any indication, i will probably, eventually, experience an opening up and renewal of the "beauty pathways," the ones that help me to be thankful for and to appreciate what i have instead of simply worrying about what i'm going to lose; unfortunately, that hasn't happened yet, and i guess i have no guarantee that it will happen, this time. in any case, i can't force that to happen. it's part of the grieving process, but not usually an early part (to the extent that early-middle-late grief follows any kind of a predictable narrative line). i have to take things one day at a time, and give myself permission to fully feel whatever i feel--without passing judgment on myself--at every step along the way.
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no subject
Date: 2007-09-12 04:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
From:no subject
Date: 2007-09-17 10:27 pm (UTC)I'm in the same boat as you; probably won't have kids of my own. I often wonder who will take care of me, too. I have a cousin who is my parents' age, and she is single sans kids, and I am sure that some of her care will fall on my shoulders; right now, I'm OK with that. We'll see how I feel in a few years when taking care of her becomes a reality.
I don't really know what else to say, except, be good to yourself, and know that you're loved, supported, and that we're listening.
*hug*
(no subject)
From:(no subject)
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