Farewelling My Father's Days

Earlier this month was Father’s Day, and shortly before that celebration my father celebrated his 78th birthday. Nothing about that is remarkable, but for me as his caregiver, it was special and somewhat solemn.

I lost my mom in 2014. As a smoker for 30 plus years, she had been ill, but I didn’t fully realize that her death (in her mid-60s) was imminent. I learned a lot from losing her, and the opportunities I lost with her before she passed. One missed opportunity really haunts me. The year before she died, I was at home visiting. She and I were both fans of a short mid-day nap and she invited me to sleep with her during our nap. When I was a kid, she and I would talk and rub our toes together until we fell asleep, and she asked me to revisit our old school selves. I said no. She used to snore, and I didn’t want to be bothered as I grabbed my mid-day Zs. If I had known that was the last chance I ever had to curl up next to my mommy, I would have listened to her snore all day long.

Whether your parent has a chronic condition (as my father does), engages in risky behavior (smoking and drug use come to mind), or is simply a mortal, we all have to grapple with the reality that tomorrow is promised to no one. It’s almost cliché to say, “live each day as if it was your last”, but this isn’t a carpe diem reminder. It’s a note to caregivers and to kids with parents that may be gone this time next year. You know who you are, and you know how hard that reality is to acknowledge. There are times when your regrets visit you in advance of the moment you will look back on and wish to do them over again.

That’s the hard in between for caregivers. Being human and somewhat selfish packs a double whammy.

There are many articles that talk about how to memorialize your parents, this isn’t one of them per se. I’ll be giving some practical advice to us kids living in between; in between having our parents and losing them. In between loving our parents and resenting them. In between being fully grown and always being the little girl who loves her daddy.

My perspective is one of a daughter who has, and had, a mostly healthy yet imperfect relationship with both parents. I acknowledge that some of us have fractured and unhealthy connections and relationships with parents or the parental figures in our lives. For those without those healthy bonds, you may find value here in what you can do with, and for, your own kids as you near life’s finish line. It may also be of value to a friend or loved one. I invite you to keep reading and to feel welcome.

ZERO GUILT

The first thing I will say is let go of the guilt you hold. There are so many stripes on the backs of children in different shades of guilt that I can’t really do justice to them all, but here’s some – I didn’t make enough of myself professionally, I’ve been divorced 3 times and mom and dad have been married since 1942, I didn’t come home for any of the Christmases I lived abroad, I wasn’t with the family when Grandma passed, I stole a car in high school, I can’t remember mom’s birthday, I punched dad in the driveway that time we got in a fight, or I missed taking that nap with mom.

Let it all go. You are the child your parents raised, and that child is now an adult in the world who has flaws just like everyone else. Evaluate your imperfections, perhaps most importantly those you think your parents are projecting upon you, and give yourself the grace to be human. Your parents love you unconditionally, and they want the best for you. The best is NOT you drowning in a pool of your own remorse.

PREPARE NOW

Your parents are going to die.

Take the time now to acknowledge that and let them know that you are ready for that day. Be deliberate in discussing their wishes for their death and funeral services. The greatest gift my mom gave our grieving family was specific, written instructions right down to the color of the balloons she wanted at her homegoing celebration. Get the names and numbers of the friends and family your dad wants you to notify when he dies.

Take a special day or trip to sit down with mom and get her will, advanced medical directive, power of attorney, and logons and passwords. Tell them that you will be OK. They need to know that you will be OK. Set aside travel funds now, buy a airline gift certificate, look at hotels and Air B&Bs in the area, make plans for your big old dog if you have to leave in a moment’s notice, and above all COMMUNICATE.

CAPTURE THE LIFE LIVED

Thank you technology! Take a million pictures, you can curate them later. Tech has made holding on to the LIFE lived by our parents easier than ever. If you have not checked out Story Corp’s app and ability to record your parent’s voice for future generations, do it now (you’re welcome). Remind your dad of all the cool memories you have from childhood.

Talk to mom about how much her pumpkin spice cookies remind you that Fall is magical. Get their handwriting on something, you will be amazed at how much seeing a note from your mom will feel like looking into her eyes years from now. I am so blessed to be loved by a partner who understands how much my mom meant (and still means) to me. One of my best gifts was a picture of my mom and I together that my partner turned into a puzzle. Watching that picture come together was a weeks long walk down memory lane.

My grandmother passed away at 93 (she was a pip!) and the last thing she said to me was to remember her as she was when she was alive and vital, not as she ended sick and limited. We all want to be seen in our best light, from our best side, in our best lighting….give your parents a glimpse of themselves through your loving eyes. It is your greatest gift to give.

TIME AND TOUCH

Give your dad your undivided attention for as long as you can. This is especially hard for me because he’s with me every day, and I’m a serial multitasker. I do my best to sit with him every evening during dinner and give him all my focus, even if my phone is very tempting. I don’t always accomplish that.

At this point in his life, the only tender touch he receives comes in the form of me holding his hand as we walk,  giving him hugs before I go to bed for the night, or just a pat on the back as I walk by. The human touch means the world to other humans, especially the ones we are related to. Take a moment, even if it feels weird as a grown up, to find a way to give your parents human touch.

Frankly some days I resent the caregiving responsibilities. Instead of visiting with him at dinner, I leave him a dish he can warm up, and I don’t sit with him at all. I know I will regret those choices years from now when he’s no longer at my dining room table every night. But one of the things I have learned about caregiving is that if you don’t attend to your own peace of mind, you will have nothing left to give to your loved one. I know with certainty that I will feel regret, because of the shame I feel for the times I sent my mom to voicemail before she died.

The silver lining to those choices to send mom to voicemail is being able to pull out my phone and hear her voice with the press of a couple buttons whenever the world leaves me needing my mommy.

So, I am farewelling my father’s days, slowly but surely. In that difficult in-between, I want to reach out to others like me and offer some hope, some help, and a little humor to get you through. Now, put down your phone and ask your dad about The Day the Earth Stood Still (circa 1951). If he’s anything like my pops, he’ll have a lot to share.