Aging Can Be Tough On Everyone

We need to remember that grace works for both sides

A week or so before Christmas, my aunt called me early in the morning to request an emergency ride to the airport. She had scheduled a taxi, but it didn’t work out and she was desperate. She and my cousin, Missy, were flying north to visit with the rest of my cousins for the holidays. Her plane left in a little less than two hours.

I’d been in bed, still asleep, and having the most lovely dream about Kurt Russell in his Snake Pliskken days. It was dreary that morning and I didn’t relish the idea of an hour-long car ride with Missy in the back seat critiquing my every move and whining about the perils of legal cannabis.

I love my aunt. In her 90s, she’s sharp, funny, and as loving as any second mom should be. So, of course, I got up and got in the car wearing my jammies and slippers. I hadn’t had any coffee or even brushed my hair.

I’m so glad I still have this wonderful person in my life and will do anything to help her. But, when I asked why she didn’t simply arrange for a ride with me in the first place, she replied, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Contrast my aunt with my grandmother, who also lived into her 90s, but insisted that everyone help her. Vision impaired and in poor health due to a lifetime of smoking, she insisted on living in her own home and relied on her youngest daughter, my other aunt, for everything.

My aunt and my own mother tried to arrange for assistance with a few things like bathing, cleaning, and a few meals, but my grandmother scared any paid help away. She hated having strangers in her house and wanted only family.

Everyone obliged her, and outwardly said they appreciated the cost savings, but it put a tremendous strain on my aunt. As the only relative close by, my grandmother’s care became her complete responsibility.

At the end of her life, my own mother refused any help we offered her. My father cared for her completely, and in keeping with her wishes, didn’t share the real gravity of her illness with any of us. She stayed in her house and refused all visitors because she didn’t want anyone to see her frail condition.

After her death, my father declined visibly and passed away six months later, most likely of an exhausted, broken heart. He had been my mother’s sole caregiver for two years.

I last saw my mom a few weeks before her death when she was still kicking around the house and barking orders. Since I didn’t know the end was so close, I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, or have even one last conversation. I’ll admit, I’m still a little miffed about that. But, I tell myself that it was her death and she wanted to do it her way.

Aging is tough. I’ve done a little bit of it and I know what I’m talking about. We all get grumpy when things hurt or fall apart. The trick is not to take it out on those you love.

Looking at my relatives, it appears that I have a fair chance of living into my 90s. I never smoked and have enjoyed good health for the most part. I understand that things happen, but I’m preparing to live another 30 years just in case.

That means making preparations for alternate living conditions. I’ve told my kids that if I get sick and can’t take care of myself, they can sell my house and arrange for a new place to live. I don’t want to burden them with my presence in their homes. All I’ve asked for is a room with a view, if possible.

And, for God’s sake, if I really am sick, don’t do anything to prolong the agony on both sides. I’ve instructed them to feed me cake with ice cream and a Cherry Coke so I can at least depart this world in a good mood. No heroic measures.

I hope that when I get there, I’ll have the grace to understand my limitations and not lean unnecessarily on others. And, I hope I won’t let my aches and pains get in the way of loving my kids. I want them to stick with me until the end.

Grace also means understanding that I’ve led a good life and that it’s not my turn to be young anymore. There’s no need to be jealous of, or rude around younger people. I can look back and remember everything with a smile on my face. No need to get crotchety about it.

My kids have confirmed that they will give me rides to the airport in the event that I can no longer drive myself, as long as I schedule it with them ahead of time. And, they’ll consider a beach view if the time comes and we can afford it. They love cake, ice cream and Cherry Coke as much as I do.

I’m in good hands. I promise to respect that.