Bleary-eyed, I shuffle forward in the lineup for the early-morning flight from Montreal to the Toronto Island airport. The incessant beep-beep-beep of the alarm at five in the morning had abruptly ended my fitful slumber—the kind that comes when I fret about having to wake up early.
Alice, I wonder if it is a curse or a blessing that your dad is mentally competent. He like you must see how awful the nursing home is and you have described it so well, it is a statement I think too about whether our generation will put up with that kind of situation as the millions of us one generation younger see what our parents have been through.
I have hope that our generation will be more attuned to our spiritual lives and I highly recommend Lars Tornstam who wrote about what he called Gero-transcendence, that posited that elderly people have another growth. And that is a spiritual one and that the transcendence relies on in part people understanding that opportunity and supporting it like watering a mature flower Gerotranscendence.
It sounds like you and your sisters are doing a great job - which is to be daughters. I was a nurse, and so able to look after relatives at home for longer than usual. My experience is that you reach a level where your role as carer suppresses all other roles. If a person needs a lot of care, and the best place for them is a nursing home, don't feel guilty. You can forget about the caring and administrative roles, and focus on being a daughter - bringing light, family tales and treats to your father. Enjoy these last years, they are a gift.
When my husband's father finally went into a nursing home, my husband said he felt like he got his father back, because rather than doing all the caring / admin he could just visit with him.
Dear Alice. This chapter is suffused with the sorrow so many of us feel as we watch our aged parents and relatives fade in the twilight - and contemplate our own coming twilight years. But there is a tender lesson of hope and grace in your father's way of dealing with these changes, which I have seen too in my own mother's story. I'm still inclined to "rage, rage.." but maybe I will learn.
It is my inclination as well. I think of how my father dealt with life and it inspires me. And you have a role model as well. Maybe I shall learn too. Thanks for reading and the comment.
You have put into words what I have not been able to - and in so doing remind the reader that they are not alone, and if not there, this is what might be. Thankyou Alice
This touched me deeply, because I have been there as a child of aging parents. So wide-eyed and heartfelt. A reader said “hard to read.” Yes, but we must not look away.
Your commentary really hit home Alice, so sad and realistic that it wasn’t easy for me to read. My mother, in her later years, lived with a muscular disease that slowly weakened her to the point that she went to a residence at 80 for the extra help. She made lots of friends and the staff were kind but she spoke to me often about her dread of becoming bedridden and helpless. She died suddenly of a heart attack at 84 before the loss of total independence could happen. She was sharp and I know she would have continued to age with as much grace as possible but the day she died suddenly, though devastated, I thanked the sky’s above for her.
You ‘ve captured the end-of-life environment in all its sad details. It’s not so much that people get old and die, it’s that they have to do it in places that have those smells, that sameness.
I hate to say I liked this piece because what you are going through and what you have ahead of you is not easy. I hearted it because it was a lovely piece. My aunt lived to be 102 and, for the last several years of her life, lived in nursing homes. She was always a sharp dresser with so much life but was reduced to sitting in a wheelchair in the hall. I visited several times a week in those years. When she was 95, the nursing home closed down, and she had to move to another. At evening dinner that first night in the new nursing home, I asked her how she was doing in this new place. She looked at me and said, "You can adjust to anything." What wise words. That said, your dad will adjust. It's so hard to see them slip away. My heart goes out to you and your family on this journey.
Another lovely piece, thank you. It resonates. My own mother lived, mentally sharp but rather alienated, in her retirement home to age 102. Having gone through much of this with her, your writing rings true.
Alice it seems that with every chapter you write there is much for us to learn through your own example and from the lives of those you love. For so many years now it is Dylan Thomas’ instructions to his own father on how to leave this world that has resonated with me - “Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light”.
Your father, with all of his grace and dignity, has set that fierce verse upon its head for me and shown that death and dying might be accompanied by gentleness and acceptance and oh, so much love. I have learned a great deal from these Saturday morning interludes that are your gift to us. Thank you.
Alice, I wonder if it is a curse or a blessing that your dad is mentally competent. He like you must see how awful the nursing home is and you have described it so well, it is a statement I think too about whether our generation will put up with that kind of situation as the millions of us one generation younger see what our parents have been through.
I have hope that our generation will be more attuned to our spiritual lives and I highly recommend Lars Tornstam who wrote about what he called Gero-transcendence, that posited that elderly people have another growth. And that is a spiritual one and that the transcendence relies on in part people understanding that opportunity and supporting it like watering a mature flower Gerotranscendence.
It sounds like you and your sisters are doing a great job - which is to be daughters. I was a nurse, and so able to look after relatives at home for longer than usual. My experience is that you reach a level where your role as carer suppresses all other roles. If a person needs a lot of care, and the best place for them is a nursing home, don't feel guilty. You can forget about the caring and administrative roles, and focus on being a daughter - bringing light, family tales and treats to your father. Enjoy these last years, they are a gift.
When my husband's father finally went into a nursing home, my husband said he felt like he got his father back, because rather than doing all the caring / admin he could just visit with him.
Dear Alice. This chapter is suffused with the sorrow so many of us feel as we watch our aged parents and relatives fade in the twilight - and contemplate our own coming twilight years. But there is a tender lesson of hope and grace in your father's way of dealing with these changes, which I have seen too in my own mother's story. I'm still inclined to "rage, rage.." but maybe I will learn.
It is my inclination as well. I think of how my father dealt with life and it inspires me. And you have a role model as well. Maybe I shall learn too. Thanks for reading and the comment.
Your love, and your loss, are so evident. Thank you.
Your writing is so visceral, Alice, so tender, poignant, powerful. I almost feel as if I am with you. Your father sounds like a fine man.
I seem to have lost your Email address. If you still have mine, can you send me yours, please.
You have put into words what I have not been able to - and in so doing remind the reader that they are not alone, and if not there, this is what might be. Thankyou Alice
This touched me deeply, because I have been there as a child of aging parents. So wide-eyed and heartfelt. A reader said “hard to read.” Yes, but we must not look away.
Your commentary really hit home Alice, so sad and realistic that it wasn’t easy for me to read. My mother, in her later years, lived with a muscular disease that slowly weakened her to the point that she went to a residence at 80 for the extra help. She made lots of friends and the staff were kind but she spoke to me often about her dread of becoming bedridden and helpless. She died suddenly of a heart attack at 84 before the loss of total independence could happen. She was sharp and I know she would have continued to age with as much grace as possible but the day she died suddenly, though devastated, I thanked the sky’s above for her.
Another chapter so poignant, so moving. How you remember such details! Such emotion. Thank you Alice.
You ‘ve captured the end-of-life environment in all its sad details. It’s not so much that people get old and die, it’s that they have to do it in places that have those smells, that sameness.
I hate to say I liked this piece because what you are going through and what you have ahead of you is not easy. I hearted it because it was a lovely piece. My aunt lived to be 102 and, for the last several years of her life, lived in nursing homes. She was always a sharp dresser with so much life but was reduced to sitting in a wheelchair in the hall. I visited several times a week in those years. When she was 95, the nursing home closed down, and she had to move to another. At evening dinner that first night in the new nursing home, I asked her how she was doing in this new place. She looked at me and said, "You can adjust to anything." What wise words. That said, your dad will adjust. It's so hard to see them slip away. My heart goes out to you and your family on this journey.
I sit here with tears in my eyes and thank you for beautiful and loving stories
Another lovely piece, thank you. It resonates. My own mother lived, mentally sharp but rather alienated, in her retirement home to age 102. Having gone through much of this with her, your writing rings true.
Alice it seems that with every chapter you write there is much for us to learn through your own example and from the lives of those you love. For so many years now it is Dylan Thomas’ instructions to his own father on how to leave this world that has resonated with me - “Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light”.
Your father, with all of his grace and dignity, has set that fierce verse upon its head for me and shown that death and dying might be accompanied by gentleness and acceptance and oh, so much love. I have learned a great deal from these Saturday morning interludes that are your gift to us. Thank you.
"Setting that fierce verse upon its head" - yes, and perfectly said, thank you Kristin.
Dylan Thomas was young, fired up. Aging brings us realistic acceptance, and with luck, some grace.