I go downstairs to grab a can of mushrooms, and stop for a second to talk to Dad, my father”“in-law. He’s watching the news, reclined in his chair, legs shaking. I know why they’re shaking: because the pain he lives with is too intense for his bones to contain, and so he shakes. He’s lived with us five years, three of them alone, after Mom’s death.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
He looks up. For a minute, talking with me will distract him from hurting. “About the same,” he tells me. He gives a half-smile.
“Did you sleep?” I ask. “I can tell you’re hurting a lot. You’re shaking again.”
He puts his hands on his legs to stop himself. “You always know, don’t you?”
“The shaking, the dark circles under your eyes, I can always tell,” I say, joking. I joke about it a lot; I don’t know how else to handle it, and if I treated his condition with its full weight all the time, the burden of an obscure, chronic, intensely painful form of arthritis, I would be gloomy and worried and no help.
I sit down for a minute and chat. The conversation will keep his mind off the pain for a few minutes. Then I go and finish making my casserole, our dinner.
A little over a month ago I had a 104-degree fever. When antibiotics did not seem to calm whatever infected my body, my husband and father-in-law gave me a blessing, and within a few hours, the fever subsided completely. This is the way Dad takes care of us, the most important way. He also watches my kids while I run errands, and stays here to let in plumbers and repairmen. His presence here smooths the hassles of my life.
But when I go downstairs on an errand, I don’t always sit down for a minute and chat. Many times I say hello and then leave Dad shaking from pain, alone with 137 cable channels and a remote control. I do this because I have three small children, and because my floor needs to be swept, and I need to change the laundry, and I have to make dinner for us. Or, sometimes, because there’s a website or a book calling me back.
Dad does not make me feel guilty for anything I do or don’t do: whatever I offer is enough for him. If I don’t stop to talk, he won’t reproach me. If I do, he will enjoy it, but not make me feel guilty for not staying longer. If I make dinner, he will eat it (unless he’s too queasy from various medications to keep anything down). If I don’t, he’ll nuke some frozen meal. … and so whatever I give is enough for him, and yet it leaves me feeling guilty, like it’s not enough, at the same time.
I feel connected to Carol Patranek’s story of caring for her mother, “Watching Over Mom.” Our experiences differ, but we both share this question: “Who [am] I now? The child who [receives] guidance or the caregiver who [gives] it?” It’s the fundamental question of caring for a parent. And, like Carol, my role changes continuously. When I’m cooking meals or chatting to keep the edge off Dad’s pain, I’m a caregiver. When I’m sick, and he helps my husband give me a blessing, I’m a child.
I love Carol’s statement that “charity is more in the doing than the feeling.” Before Dad and Mom lived with us, I did love and care about them. But I have discovered in our relationship now, in the many ways we serve each other, a level of caring that would have been impossible for me if they had not shared our home. There’s still an edge of guilt for me: I should be doing more for him, I should find some way to help him heal. But there’s also a sweetness: if I’m not doing all I could to care for him, at least I am doing something.
Read “Watching Over Mom.” What blessings and challenges have you experienced as you’ve cared for parents, or watched grandparents being cared for? How have you handled the continuously changing roles? How has your charity expanded?
I worry, worry, worry about my parents, and my coming responsibility to care for them. That’s part of the reason we bought this house that has a second kitchen downstairs. I know we all have to go throught this strange phase of our lives, but it’s especially strange when it’s happening to yourself!
The Lord knows what we each need, and He knows what we can each bear. I just have to trust in that information and keep moving.
Emily M.–I found a great sense of peace in serving (making dinner, lifting their fragile bodies, changing their sheets, being with them) my grandparents as they aged and eventually passed. I now live 2,000 miles away from my parents who are aging (my dad has Parkinson’s, mom has arthritis and a narrowing of the spinal column).
I would love to be closer, to physically lift them and somehow repay what I have been given. I count myself lucky to have had them carry me for so long. I’m not sure how to find peace in their eventual passing without being there to carry them when they need it. I know that it’s a huge burden to care for our loved ones, but I have found that it is also a privilege.
Thanks for that reminder…
I was reminded of a General Conference given by Elder Oaks on this topic back in 1991:
http://www.lds.org/portal/site/LDSOrg/menuitem.b12f9d18fae655bb69095bd3e44916a0/?vgnextoid=2354fccf2b7db010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD&locale=0&sourceId=38a266ce3a47b010VgnVCM1000004d82620a____&hideNav=1
Elder Oaks spends time speaking about how we honor our parents differently at different stages of our lives. I particularly enjoyed this part:
“The best way to care for the aged is to preserve their independence as long as possible. President Benson explained:
‘Even when parents become elderly, we ought to honor them by allowing them freedom of choice and the opportunity for independence as long as possible. Let us not take away from them choices which they can still make. Some parents are able to live and care for themselves well into their advancing years and would prefer to do so. Where they can, let them.
‘If they become less able to live independently, then family, Church, and community resources may be needed to help them. When the elderly become unable to care for themselves, even with supplemental aid, care can be provided in the home of a family member when possible. Church and community resources may also be needed in this situation.’ (Ensign, Nov. 1989, p. 7.)
“When aged parents who are not able to live alone are invited to live with their children, this keeps them in the family circle and allows them to continue their close ties with all members of the family. When a parent lives with one child, the other children should make arrangements to share the burdens and blessings of this arrangement.
“When it is not possible for parents to be cared for in the homes of their children, so that some type of institutional care is obtained, their children should remember that institutional care will generally focus on physical needs. Members of the family should make regular visits and contacts to provide the spiritual and emotional sustenance and the love that must continue in the family relationship for mortal life and throughout all eternity.”
I think that we often concern ourselves with how to provide for the physical needs of our parents (and rightfully so). But, if these are already provided for, I think the real challenge lies in providing emotional and spiritual support.
Emily, this is beautifully written and very thought-provoking. I want to say more about it, but I’m on the run right now. Hopefully I can grab some time over the next few days. For now, let me just say thank you.
Thanks for your responses! Justine, you say it well: the Lord knows what we need and what we can bear. I think that caregiving is such an individual thing: my responsibilities have been relatively light, enough to stretch me, but not make me feel overwhelmed. I look at many other caregivers and wonder how they do it.
Maralise–that was beautiful. What a sacred experience, to care for your dying grandparents, and even more so because you saw the holy in it.
Matt-Good quote, and good point. Emotional and spiritual support is also a challenge.
Sharlee–thanks! I look forward to reading your thoughts.
This article reminds me of myself. I feel like too many times I don’t know what to do or say so I do nothing. In a way that is as dangerous as doing the wrong thing. I don’t know how that applies to you. It might not. But it shows I need to be more prayerful in seeking help from my Heavenly Father. Thanks for making me more aware.