Yeah, and there are other things that are harder to talk about than good days and waffle toppings. Like, how the older I get the more terrified I become of losing my parents, and how more inevitable it seems. I am not coping well with their aging, with the knowledge that one day, assuming we all live to about normal life expectancy, I’m going to be without them. My imagination is too active, finds it all too easy to imagine the nursing home that smells antiseptic and sour at the same time, the stuffy funeral home mauves and browns. And I just keep hoping I’ll feel more adult then, that I’ll feel more capable, or something, but I have the feeling that I won’t.
This past weekend in Charlotte, Dad was sick, and we didn’t know what was wrong. And as he lay there on the floor of Joannie’s empty apartment, eyes closed in pain, I wanted to scream, No, you are not allowed to be sick. How cruel it is to have to see your father—someone so strong, someone able to do anything, someone who is never ill—how cruel it is to see him in pain, to see him weak. And sometimes when I talk to my sister, I think one day it will just be us, and we’ll not have anyone to tell us what’s wrong with our cars, to tell us how to get rid of dollar weed, to remember what we were like as babies.
I thought maybe this anxiety was just an only-child thing, or because my parents are older than the parents of most of my friends. But I mentioned this to Jesse last night as we ate the leftover waffles for dinner, and he said he feels the same about his parents, that he feels it too, the feeling of unstoppable, the quiet dread. I know all the right answers, the parts about worry, about control, contentment, all that, but there are days when I wish I could be nine again, protected and cared for, there are days when I don’t like this adult thing one bit, the knowledge that I might live to bury my parents and exist in a world without them, when there is nothing more I can say.
So, there’s that. There’s that.
4 Comments
I know exactly how you feel, Erin. A very good friend of mine lost his mother last week — it was unexpected and she had been in great health — and it made all of this seem very close to home. And then there’s the added layer of being a mother myself now, and thinking of Caroline having to take care of me when I’m old. . . strange and unsettling thoughts.
Noticing Mom and Dad aging has been very tough to do… especially hearing Mom say so often how much she misses her Mom and Dad, who passed away 13 and 4 years ago respectively. As much as they sometimes aggravate me, I have no idea how I’ll ever cope when Mom and Dad pass away. I just pray that it’s a really long time from now, and that they pass in their sleep at the age of 102. Growing up is odd, and full of many things that I don’t like (seeing my parents grow older and more susceptible to disease is one of them). However, what’s even worse is watching your best friend who was only 23 years old pass away after a horrific accident, while you’re at her bedside with your hand on her arm. Then, you not only have your parents’ mortality to think about, but you start to think about your own.
Jennifer, what a load it must add to have a child and to think about what she might experience one day should she outlive you. I’m sorry to hear of your friend’s loss. How terrible.
Becki, wow. I can’t imagine how hard that was. Such a loss.
I don’t think any of us are ever ready, that we ever feel adult-enough. My dad’s 73 now. I always thought that when I had to spend the holidays alone, it would be because he’d passed. And it didn’t turn out that way at all. I was alone because he got another DUI and was in court-mandated rehab, and I was angry that alcoholism had robbed me. And I was angry that my dad’s newfound irresponsibility forced many of his responsibilities onto me. I didn’t think that would happen until I felt like more of an adult. Or until I had a husband to help me make big decisions. Or until a lot of things that may never happen at all. And even so, my dad’s my whole family. And when he really does go, I really will be incredibly alone in this world. And that is very real to me. And so is not having someone to ask about killing dollar weed and new brake pads and all the stuff of life that we don’t really trust the Internet to tell us. So as far as I can tell, this thing of yours, it’s pretty normal.