My son was just on spring break so we met in Michigan for a quick visit to my folks. I’d been there two months earlier with my daughter. I hoped that making shorter visits more often would spare me the kind of shocks that I got when I waited too long between trips.
My parents still live in their own house, shop for their own groceries, prepare their own meals, keep their house tidy and drive. They still attend and enjoy lectures and concerts and meals with friends. But they'll be the first to tell you they are not the people they once were.
We all know their condition can, and no doubt will, get unimaginably worse as they shuffle along this tricky part of the path. But the unknown is... well, unknown. And for now I'm grateful for how well they're doing, especially since the same cannot be said for many of their friends. In fact, most people my parents' ages are dead.
My son and I sat in the kitchen and then the living room, telling them about our lives. We drove around some, we ate, had a few laughs. We heard a few main stories and concerns on loop, and took naps. It was a pleasant enough few days, no hospital trips, no falls, no funerals. And although my folks were sad to see us go, we were ready to leave when the time came.
My son and I sat in the kitchen and then the living room, telling them about our lives. We drove around some, we ate, had a few laughs. We heard a few main stories and concerns on loop, and took naps. It was a pleasant enough few days, no hospital trips, no falls, no funerals. And although my folks were sad to see us go, we were ready to leave when the time came.
My son had a few more days of his spring break so he flew home with me. We talked. He told me about his life. We drove around some. We had a few laughs. We ate. And this morning, as I stood not-quite-teary at the door, he drove off, anxious to leave, eager to get back to his own life.
Ah, I get it.
xo
Amy
