Columnists
Jerry Large
Seattle Times staff columnist
Summer felt short, like life.
We always split our vacation time between visits to family and travel for exploration or relaxation.
But the mix has gradually shifted until this year the balance tipped toward familial duty.
My mother and my wife's father need more of our attention, so we spent most of our time away from work with them.
We are not alone in this. A significant slice of the population is dealing with the needs of aging parents.
Sometimes friends and co-workers commiserate with one another about it, but for the most part everyone is in it alone.
That is especially true of the feeling part.
If you ask me about my vacation, I might grumble about the lack of downtime, but what I really feel the loss of are aspects of people I love, and of old, comfortable relationships.
I miss my mother's cooking. Her meals were one of the great pleasures of my annual visits, for both of us.
My younger brother signed her up for Meals On Wheels, but she differs with her sons on whether it is safe for her to cook for herself.
It isn't.
I was sitting on her sofa reading a novel about a family in northern New Mexico, which I chose because I thought it would fit in with my visit.
It did, too well. One of the grown daughters returned home with problems that had no solution, the author wrote, so her mother cooked for her, because that is what mothers do for their children.
The words chased me around for a couple of days until I said, "Mama, maybe you should make that pie."
But, I think she forgot I said it. That is new this year, too. Last year she would forget something I said the day before. This year sometimes it's what I said a few minutes ago.
And, she is so tiny. How did that happen?
My father-in-law was always proud of his broad shoulders and muscles.
Now he's small and walks slowly on newly rebuilt knees.
He spends much of his time writing plays, but he can't get to the library like he used to.
We decided to get him a computer so he could do research and write at home.
Our son showed him how to use it, but he kept forgetting stuff. Despite that, as soon as we left, he tried to reconfigure some things. He's always been able to figure things out. It didn't work. Now the machine is an inert lump on his desk.
My wife is still trying to get him to take a computer class, but he thinks he knows too much about computers.
Our parents are particularly independent people, so shifting roles involves some uncomfortable friction. Neither of them wants to hear that they can't do the kinds of things they've always done. We don't want to tell them that.
It's not like caring for a child. Raising a child is frustrating sometimes, but usually you figure whatever challenge they're facing will be solved with time.
There is joy in their growth.
At the other end, there are warm memories of back when, but also fears of what lies ahead.
People shrink when they get old, but their problems don't.
Jerry Large
jlarge@seattletimes.com
Copyright © 2008 The Seattle Times Company
September 4, 2008
USA: Old age mixes love with loss
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SEATTLE, Washington (The Seattle Times), September 4, 2008:
Summer felt short, like life. We always split our vacation time between visits to family and travel for exploration or relaxation. But the mix has...
Columnists
Jerry Large
Seattle Times staff columnist
Summer felt short, like life.
We always split our vacation time between visits to family and travel for exploration or relaxation.
But the mix has gradually shifted until this year the balance tipped toward familial duty.
My mother and my wife's father need more of our attention, so we spent most of our time away from work with them.
We are not alone in this. A significant slice of the population is dealing with the needs of aging parents.
Sometimes friends and co-workers commiserate with one another about it, but for the most part everyone is in it alone.
That is especially true of the feeling part.
If you ask me about my vacation, I might grumble about the lack of downtime, but what I really feel the loss of are aspects of people I love, and of old, comfortable relationships.
I miss my mother's cooking. Her meals were one of the great pleasures of my annual visits, for both of us.
My younger brother signed her up for Meals On Wheels, but she differs with her sons on whether it is safe for her to cook for herself.
It isn't.
I was sitting on her sofa reading a novel about a family in northern New Mexico, which I chose because I thought it would fit in with my visit.
It did, too well. One of the grown daughters returned home with problems that had no solution, the author wrote, so her mother cooked for her, because that is what mothers do for their children.
The words chased me around for a couple of days until I said, "Mama, maybe you should make that pie."
But, I think she forgot I said it. That is new this year, too. Last year she would forget something I said the day before. This year sometimes it's what I said a few minutes ago.
And, she is so tiny. How did that happen?
My father-in-law was always proud of his broad shoulders and muscles.
Now he's small and walks slowly on newly rebuilt knees.
He spends much of his time writing plays, but he can't get to the library like he used to.
We decided to get him a computer so he could do research and write at home.
Our son showed him how to use it, but he kept forgetting stuff. Despite that, as soon as we left, he tried to reconfigure some things. He's always been able to figure things out. It didn't work. Now the machine is an inert lump on his desk.
My wife is still trying to get him to take a computer class, but he thinks he knows too much about computers.
Our parents are particularly independent people, so shifting roles involves some uncomfortable friction. Neither of them wants to hear that they can't do the kinds of things they've always done. We don't want to tell them that.
It's not like caring for a child. Raising a child is frustrating sometimes, but usually you figure whatever challenge they're facing will be solved with time.
There is joy in their growth.
At the other end, there are warm memories of back when, but also fears of what lies ahead.
People shrink when they get old, but their problems don't.
Jerry Large
jlarge@seattletimes.com
Copyright © 2008 The Seattle Times Company
Columnists
Jerry Large
Seattle Times staff columnist
Summer felt short, like life.
We always split our vacation time between visits to family and travel for exploration or relaxation.
But the mix has gradually shifted until this year the balance tipped toward familial duty.
My mother and my wife's father need more of our attention, so we spent most of our time away from work with them.
We are not alone in this. A significant slice of the population is dealing with the needs of aging parents.
Sometimes friends and co-workers commiserate with one another about it, but for the most part everyone is in it alone.
That is especially true of the feeling part.
If you ask me about my vacation, I might grumble about the lack of downtime, but what I really feel the loss of are aspects of people I love, and of old, comfortable relationships.
I miss my mother's cooking. Her meals were one of the great pleasures of my annual visits, for both of us.
My younger brother signed her up for Meals On Wheels, but she differs with her sons on whether it is safe for her to cook for herself.
It isn't.
I was sitting on her sofa reading a novel about a family in northern New Mexico, which I chose because I thought it would fit in with my visit.
It did, too well. One of the grown daughters returned home with problems that had no solution, the author wrote, so her mother cooked for her, because that is what mothers do for their children.
The words chased me around for a couple of days until I said, "Mama, maybe you should make that pie."
But, I think she forgot I said it. That is new this year, too. Last year she would forget something I said the day before. This year sometimes it's what I said a few minutes ago.
And, she is so tiny. How did that happen?
My father-in-law was always proud of his broad shoulders and muscles.
Now he's small and walks slowly on newly rebuilt knees.
He spends much of his time writing plays, but he can't get to the library like he used to.
We decided to get him a computer so he could do research and write at home.
Our son showed him how to use it, but he kept forgetting stuff. Despite that, as soon as we left, he tried to reconfigure some things. He's always been able to figure things out. It didn't work. Now the machine is an inert lump on his desk.
My wife is still trying to get him to take a computer class, but he thinks he knows too much about computers.
Our parents are particularly independent people, so shifting roles involves some uncomfortable friction. Neither of them wants to hear that they can't do the kinds of things they've always done. We don't want to tell them that.
It's not like caring for a child. Raising a child is frustrating sometimes, but usually you figure whatever challenge they're facing will be solved with time.
There is joy in their growth.
At the other end, there are warm memories of back when, but also fears of what lies ahead.
People shrink when they get old, but their problems don't.
Jerry Large
jlarge@seattletimes.com
Copyright © 2008 The Seattle Times Company
