I spent the morning with my mom at an assessment for in-home care. She’s 72 and struggling in every way – body, mind, and spirit.
I love her deeply, but she’s hard to help. Pride and repressed pain make her resist the support she needs.
Still, a seed was planted today. I’ll take that as a win. At least now she knows another option exists. Maybe this is the slow jog at the start of something better.
I’ve reached the part of life where I’m helping care for the one who once cared for me. That’s wild to me. That’s new to me.
I’m learning that fatherhood – which isn’t new to me – and being a son at 49 with a parent who needs care and occasional intervention aren’t so different. Both ask for my continued patience. Both ask for my continued humility. Both ask that my love endure.
And quitting will never be an option.