Life has a way of sneaking by when you’re not paying attention. I notice my kids growing and tackling new milestones, and I look forward to their adventures. My parents have always been there, sharing in these moments, yet it only recently hit me that they are growing older.
Not long ago, I took my father to urgent care. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything serious, but it was a wake-up call: my parents are indeed aging, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that reality. When you find yourself filling out medical forms for your dad, listing his medications and family health history, it’s a moment that makes you pause. The man who was once larger than life and always there for me now needs my support, and it feels surreal.
Parents are typically the caregivers. They possess wisdom and experience, are the ones who bring you chicken soup when you’re sick, and take care of your newborn to give you a much-needed break. They host family gatherings and provide that sense of home. It’s hard to imagine life without them, so we often don’t. But then, something like a trip to urgent care can shatter that illusion.
My parents are in their late sixties and early seventies, still vibrant and with plenty of life ahead. This isn’t an urgent crisis; no one is facing a terminal illness. Yet, I’m starkly aware that tomorrow isn’t promised. My grandmothers lived into their nineties, and my paternal grandfather passed away in his eighties. However, my maternal grandfather only reached 56. It’s always been something I’ve tried to ignore, not wanting to confront the possibility that my mom might not see her hundredth birthday. Just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes.
Looking at old photos, the changes in everyone’s appearances are striking. Yet, I still don’t see my parents as “old.” They are not ancient—perhaps I’m just stubborn, but when we were kids, grandparents seemed so much older. They had gray hair and wore clothes that screamed retirement. I refuse to let my mom fall into that stereotype. The moment she suggests something from the Alfred Dunner collection, I’m there to steer her in another direction. No elastic waistband culottes on my watch!
Fortunately, my mom keeps herself youthful. She’s deeply involved in the lives of her ten grandchildren, maintains a healthy lifestyle, and enjoys socializing with friends. My dad might be more inclined to embrace the senior lifestyle, but she keeps him active. However, let’s be clear: they are indeed senior citizens. Whenever there’s a discount for those 65 and older, my dad proudly pulls out his ID. As he often says, “Absolutely, I’m taking that discount! I’ve earned it.” And after 72 years, he certainly has.
While I want my parents to remain spry and engaged, I sometimes realize I may be pushing them too hard. At 42, I can keep up a fast pace, starting at a baseball game at 8 a.m. and not slowing down until 8 p.m. My mom is often by my side, but she occasionally reminds me, “I’m getting older, and I get tired.” She’s right, and it’s hard for me to accept.
I want to savor every moment with my parents. I refuse to frame it as “while I can” because that feels too morbid. Instead, I’ll embrace every opportunity to spend time with them. I’ll never pass up an invitation for dinner or a swim. I’ll take my mom to Target and share laughs as she tries on clothes over her outfit, asking for my opinion. I’ll work to be patient when they struggle with new technologies that seem simple to me. I’ll cherish the long hugs, forehead kisses, and the sweet words, “I love you, Lisa.”
I wish for my parents to live to see 100. If they do, they’ll witness their grandchildren grow up, get married, and maybe even welcome great-grandchildren. They are the best parents I could ask for, embodying love, sacrifice, and hard work. Each day together is a gift, and I’m committed to making the most of it. They’ve always been there for me, and I’ll be there for them until they no longer need me.
I know a goodbye will come one day, but I won’t dwell on that now. I’m simply not ready. But then again, who truly is?
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