Parenting parents-The Journey Begins

My father died 4 years ago. You don't think about your parents growing older, much less dying. There is something about parents that seems ageless. And yet, the truth is that parents do grow old. Sometimes they may even become very ill, before eventually dying. It is after all, the natural order of things that parents die before their children do.

When I returned to Argentina, I hadn't seen my parents for a very long time. After they had left, whenever I thought of them, in my minds eye, I’d still see them as I did back when I was just a child. My father, always the goofy clown, my mother, the more serious of the two. Both so youthful and full of life. Seeing them in the flesh, took me back a bit. There they were, two senior citizens waiting for the arrival of their daughter. Though I imagine we were all taken aback by each other. I was a bit older too, starting to gray around the temples, walking just a little slower, filled out a bit more than when they last saw me. Just as children will make you feel old, parents will plant your feet in real time. 

 That reunion happened over ten years ago. I decided to return to the place of my birth, after my mother wrote me to tell me that my favorite uncle had died. Her letter planted an idea that would eventually grow to become a kind of quiet obsession. It dawned on me that if I stayed where I was, there was the very real possibility of my never seeing my parents alive again. For years that idea haunted me until it grew into a fear that I could not shake off. With my father’s encouragement, I sold my possessions, packed a few keepsakes, said goodbye to the life I knew and returned to a country that I had left 30 years earlier. I've considered blogging about that experience. Maybe even seeking out people in situations similar to mine. But that's not what I intend to do here. 

 After a period of adjustment, I made a new life for myself. All the while watching my parents get older, but living rather comfortably. They were very happy when a casino opened up locally. It was a good place to spend their retirement money. It was all very nice up until four years ago. Looking back at some family photos taken over those years, it was clear that my father was ill. He kept the severity of his illness secret, though he did complain often of some pain here and there, while self medicating and auto diagnosing himself after comparing symptoms with the neighbors. 

My father had become quite addicted to gambling, and despite being in constant pain, he preferred to visit the casino instead of spending his gambling money on a doctor. I told him on his deathbed that he had literally gambled his life away and lost, he agreed with me. One of the few times he did so. 

When he finally had no choice but to go to the hospital, the cancer had consumed him. Removal of the tumor that caused him so much pain did little to restore him back to health and a month and a half after being admitted into the hospital he died there. His care took a heavy toll on the whole family. Most of all on my mother, who, after 54 years of marriage was now alone and considerably older. I believe that caring for my father while he was interned, brought the weight of her age crashing down on her all at once. Despite her protests, Mom couldn't be left alone. And so, there I found myself, a middle aged woman taking care of her elderly mother. 

 Taking care of an elderly parent is not an easy thing, anyone who has done it, or is currently doing it, will testify to that. So, this is my journey, one I plan to record for as long as my mother remains with me.