by Peggi Tustan
“The second half of life will be easier. The kids will be grown and independent. I’ll have more freedom to pursue my own interests. I’ll be mature enough in my faith to handle any trouble that comes my way…”
Or so I thought. Reality, as usual, turned out a bit differently. For when my oldest child was heading off to college, my mom began having circulation issues and lost her leg. With Mom away in the hospital and rehab, my dad placed a frozen pot pie in the hot oven—still in its box. It was an early sign of dementia. I flew to Florida from Ohio four times that year to assist. The next year, we moved my parents back to Ohio, into our home. Life got real hard real quick.
“Why is this so hard?” I kept asking God. I loved my parents. I wanted to help them. I should be mature enough to handle this. But by the end of that first year, I was spiraling downward into depression.
“Who said life’s second half gets easier? It wasn’t me. Forget that idea,” I sensed the Spirit whisper as I was out walking one day to clear my head. “Your faith journey is a trek up my mountain. The longer you live, the higher you climb, the steeper the trail. Steep aint easy. You’ll lose your footing, stumble, even fall. Just remember. You’re not alone. I’ll be right there to catch you. In some places, the trail will level off and get easier. You can rest there awhile. But eventually, we’ll resume the trek. As we reach those higher elevations, you’ll be able to look out and see how far you’ve come. The view will take your breath away!”
In the last days the mountain of the LORD’s temple
will be established as the highest of the mountains;
it will be exalted above the hills, and peoples will stream to it.
(Micah 4:1 NIV)
My caring-for-aging-parents path was taking me straight up God’s mountain. No matter how deeply we love, caregiving isn’t easy. Just accepting that our parents need care—the ones who cared for us—is difficult. My mother who loved to walk and dance was confined to a wheelchair. The one who prided herself on remembering birthdays, forgot mine. Ouch. My gentle father’s anger flared in frustration, unable to zip his coat or open a package of cookies. The animated storyteller sat silent. His stories stolen by dementia. My heart ached. It hurts because we love.
And because we love, we’ll find those breathtaking views. As my parents’ needs increased, they relied more on each other. The bickering of earlier years was gone. They were sweethearts once more, holding hands and stealing kisses. They relied more on Jesus, too. I’d often walk into a room and catch them in spontaneous prayer. After living a lifetime of faith, grace and peace enveloped them. Death held no fear. On my father’s ninetieth birthday, he winked and assured me, “God’s waiting on me.” His climb almost over. The summit in sight. Glorious view!
So, I made my peace with reality. Having my parents live in our home overwhelmed me. That’s okay. It didn’t mean I loved them any less. Or trusted God less. It means we all have our strengths and weaknesses. After that first year, my parents and sisters’ family purchased a home together big enough for all of them. We hired caregivers to come in and assist. I continued to handle all my parents’ financial, medical, and legal needs. They stayed in our home every other weekend to give my sister’s family a break. For six years, we walked a steep yet navigable path.
My parents are now safely home with Jesus. Though I miss them. My second half of life is looking more as I once imagined. I have time to pursue some of my own interests (like writing). I don’t know what tomorrow holds. The mountain waits. I have a long climb ahead.
But for today, I’m content to sit back and enjoy the view.
Peggi Tustan is an ordinary woman seeking to live an extraordinary Real Life in Christ. She writes, teaches, speaks, and mentors women in Northeast Ohio. Stop by and visit her at www.peggitustan.com.
Photo of her parents courtesy of Peggi.
Great post, Peggi — I love that you included their newfound need and love for each other. So sweet. How wonderful they still had each other during that time. Thank you for your transparency.
I appreciate your kind comments, Connie. The sweetness of their relationship in those last years is a cherished memory. I feel so blessed to have witnessed it!
“Having my parents live in our home overwhelmed me. That’s okay. It didn’t mean I loved them any less. Or trusted God less.” Yes. I used to feel guilty that I didn’t feel warm and fuzzy and altruistic about having my m-i-l in our home and that I thought care-giving was hard. My husband and I have said often that feeling the weigh of it doesn’t mean we feel she’s a burden, it’s just an acknowledgment that it is hard in many ways.
Thanks for writing, Barbara. So great to hear from a kindred spirit. Praying grace and strength for the journey over you and your husband as you care for his mom. “Feeling the weight” is a perfect way to describe it.
Peggi that is simply beautiful very well said. Tears in my eyes as I read on. I do remember that time in your life. You are an amazing women!God Bless huggs
Peggi that is simply beautiful very well said. Tears in my eyes as I read on. I do remember that time in your life. You are an amazing women!God Bless huggs
Oh, thank you, dear friend! Yes, you were here and stopped in to visit with Mom and Dad. Thank you!
Thank you for reminding readers to not take their aging parents for granted. It can happen in such a fast-pasted world. May we honor our parents, may we lean into patience when they tax our nerves. I needed this reminder.
Yep. It’s a difficult season. So the temptation is to hurry through and not recognize the beautiful moments. I feel blessed to have shared this intimacy with my parents before they left for heaven.
Sobbing as I read this….You are an Earth Angel…
You are always so good to me, Chris. You loved my parents, too. Thank you!
Very true and thought provoking. So many times our expectations never meet reality. I like the visual of living life with God is like climbing a steep mountain; the world thinks that belief in God is a crutch but it is far the opposite as He molds us I to His image. Thank you so much for sharing Peggi!
Hi Sherry,
Thanks for your encouraging comments, my friend. God surprised me with the mountain analogy. That doesn’t happen very often (that he puts an image in my mind.). Of course, it fit my life experience perfectly!
Read through with tears…thank you for sharing this inspiring and poignant glimpse into your family journey. A beautiful lesson in love faith….
Thanks, Sandy. Your kind words encourage me. “Love faith” is a beautiful way to say it. I think I’m going to borrow that. 🙂
Overwhelming seems a fitting description for me. It was my sister who was the in-town caregiver with me on the opposite end of the country – literally. I know there were many times she felt overwhelmed with mom’s needs and I felt useless to either of them. Thank you for finding in the midst of it. It’s always there if we’re looking.
Living across the country from our aging parents has it own frustrations, Debby. You always wish you could be there, do more. And it’s not always possible. That’s how I felt when my parents were in Florida and I was in Ohio. But I’m sure you stilled prayed and encouraged from afar.
This is a beautiful post – I appreciate the realness of it. Thanks for sharing the insights you learned on this hard but rewarding journey.
Oh thanks so much, Jeannie!
Thanks for sharing Peggi! I love your realness in expressing what life is like and how God shows up and comforts, teaches and delights us.
Yes. Our God does delight us. Thank you for your kind comment, Michelle. 🙂
Beautifully written. My mom passed 31 years ago this month at the end of a long battle with dementia. I am only a year younger now than she was which shoves me, kicking and screaming, into a stark reality. Having cared for two more declining elders since then, I full well know all the signs so I am on high alert now. Did I just forget that common word? Did I just skip that step? What happened to my will and stamina?
This is scarier than any place I’ve ever been because I have seen it unfold. I’ve been the bridge for those who have lost their way but I don’t want to have to need anyone else being a filling in the middle for me though. This is a real and present concern and a new paradigm to realize that there are as many levels of change in the second half as there are in the first half. One day you find you have passed into the last quarter and all that independence you mustered for so long is irrelevant.
Wow, April. I understand your fear. Both of my parents suffered from dementia. Dad’s came on sooner, but progressed slower. Mom’s was later and quicker, but I believe her myriad health issues exacerbated it.
We do all we can to stay healthy. And trust God will provide the care we need when the time comes. Just as he did for our parents. So thankful this life is temporary. We have heaven, Jesus, and an eternity in healthy bodies and minds to look forward to. Hallelujah!
“Straight up God’s mountain”
That phrase is so accurate and picturesque it stopped me in my tracks.
It’s so good to read about another woman’s experience of feeling like “the bad daughter.”
It’s almost as if our parents lose themselves, and so we lose ourselves along with them as we try to deal with their anger and frustration and diminishing capabilities.
So glad I came upon this post!
Thanks, Michele. I felt your kindred spirit as I read your post. 🙂 It’s so true our parents lose some of themselves, and so, we lose too. And grieve that loss!