Holding...

Life is a dance of holding on...and letting go. The magic comes when you figure out which to do at which time.

Caring for your aging parent is one of the most beautifully ugly opportunities that life hands you. We are in that journey now….twice over. With my dad and my mother in law. My dad currently lives about 4 miles from our farm and he is fully independent with us managing his medical world. Meds. Appointments and assistance with his bigger tasks. My Mother in Law resides with us on our property and we provide meals, medical support and my husband has taken over her financial duties.

Aside from 1 sister on each side, hub and I are navigating this pile alone and it freaking sucks. While there are occasional phone calls to stay in contact, we are the ones who get to handle all of the “crap” of life for a 79 and 85 year old. Literally and figuratively.

We are the ones who are here when illnesses hit. We get to navigate carving out time in our own lives to care for an extra human. We get to set and attend medical appointments, determine if this sniffle is something to be concerned about or if we can manage it on our own. We are the ones who have given up being able to travel, go and do as a couple because neither can be alone for any extended periods of time. We are the ones who weigh whether or not we call rescue for a fall or if we need to bandage up the leg and keep on trucking. We get to wipe asses. Clean up puke. Scrub the floors that get spilled on. We get to worry about if there will be enough money and insurance if life changes for either of them. We get to figure out how to tow the mower to the service shop. We have to fix the Tv’s. Undelete the call logs. Go to the grocery stores. Get the cars serviced. Figure out what veggies to serve with dinner so the diet is as balanced as it can be. We get to monitor blood to pressures for the doctors logs. We get to do daily weigh ins. We get called to coordinate physical therapy and nursing care at home. And…we are the ones who get to watch our parents work through their own grief about not only losing their spouses but also losing their independence.

It’s us.

And most days, I wouldn’t trade any of that for anything, there are days, like the past couple where I would give anything to hop on a cruise ship, shut off my phone and just float away from all of it.

The anger that gets flung. The moods while everything is processed. The tears. The ridiculous outbursts. The snide and often cruel comments. It comes to us. Not the ones who call once each week or check in on Facebook every few days. When frustration hits, it is the two of us who are the villains in the stories because our life is being lived in this beautifully ugly trench.

We are the ones who are spending our countless hours dealing with all of the struggles that come with the aging process. And we get to hear about the opinions of everyone who get to simply glance over the edge with a 30 minute phone call two times each month. Opinions based on the parts of our life where we are the villains because we serve too many vegetables in the casserole….or we have mistakenly placed a blanket in the donation pile while we are spending hour number 5550 working to prep a clutter filled home to go on the market. (no joke, that was the latest one!)

It. Is. Us.

It’s been thankless. It has been ugly. It has also been so incredibly beautiful.

Here is a note to anyone who stumbles by who might be in a similar place of life: I see you. You are amazing. Wipe the snot. Find a smile. Here is a hug, you amazing warrior!