When Parents Die – Between Aging Parents and Our Own Children
Why I Wish I Could Stop Time
“That’s life!” many of you might think now.
“Yes, I know,” I reply. “But it still hurts.”
And the little child in me wants to stomp her foot and scream: “No, no, no! Haven’t I endured enough loss in my life already? That’s enough! I can’t take any more!”
“That’s part of being an adult,” some of you will say again. “Yes, I know that too,” I whisper.
Adulthood can go to hell right now.
I wrote this text in 2023, but it is still just as relevant today:
My mother’s best friend passed away last night.
My mom and I knew it wouldn’t be long. But when something like this happens, I want to stop time.
My dad passed away a year and a half ago, and my uncle a few months before that.
Each time, I knew it was going to happen. It wasn’t unexpected.
And yet, I was overwhelmed by feelings of finality and grief.
I cried a lot yesterday.
It’s the sorrow of losing someone I cared about.
Someone who had been “just there” for so many years.
And it’s mixed with the fear of losing my mother, too.
“That’s life!” many of you might think now.
“Yes, I know,” I reply. “But it still hurts.”
And the little child in me wants to stomp her foot and scream:
“No, no, no! Haven’t I endured enough loss in my life already?
That’s enough! I can’t take any more!”
“That’s part of being an adult,” some of you will say again.
“Yes, I know that too,” I whisper.
Adulthood can go to hell right now.
Life between 30 and 60 is a phase filled with immense responsibility.
Many of us find ourselves caught between raising our children and caring for our aging parents.
This double burden can be exhausting.
It has broken families and relationships.
Being a parent means carrying a tremendous weight of responsibility.
Not only do we have to meet our children’s basic needs,
but we must also ensure their education, safety, and emotional well-being.
On the other side of this life stage, we care for and support our parents,
who, as they age, increasingly rely on us.
We witness how the once-strong figures of our childhood grow weaker.
And now, we are the ones holding their hands, comforting them.
Until they leave forever.
“What remains are memories,” you might say now.
I nod and say with a steady voice:
“Yes, I will hold on to the memories.”
(The picture shows my dad and me eating artichokes in a remote little stone house in the Cévennes, Massif Central, France.)
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To your emotional independence!
Cheers,
SILKE KRISTIN ❁
✳ be bold. take charge. embrace life. by ❁SILKE KRISTIN JUELICH❁
Your dad was so fortunate to have you and your mom now too. I know it can be exhausting at times, especially with children at home. But you are showing others what love and family means. Visiting my mom in her retirement facility, I see so many others that have zero help or even visits from their kids. It breaks my heart. I think it ages them even more.