Caring for Aging Parents

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My parents moved from the Midlands to be nearer us on the south coast in the summer of 1987. My mother was 67 and my father 69. Our children were five and seven at the time. January 1988 to October 198 my husband and I and our two children went to live in Holland.

By the time we came back Mum and Dad were still very sprightly and had established a life of their own in their new neighbourhood. They loved the village where we lived and my dad was delighted with the house: at last he had a place for his own art studio. Nevertheless, it was they who helped us in those days. They tended to the house and the garden while we were away and then helped with meeting the children after school, taking them to various appointments and were always available as free babysitters on our return. They lived just a few doors away and being retired they were also very useful to our neighbours: they would wait in for tradesman, water plants whilst people were on holiday and walk local dogs whilst their owners were busy.

The changes happen so slowly when you live so close by and you are so busy with your own careers that you hardly notice them. The children grew up and didn’t need their parents or their grandparents so much. Mum and Dad gradually became more medicated and we had to guard them against rogue tradesmen. We began to help them financially too. We in effect paid the mortgage on their house but made it look as if we gave it to them for services rendered.

My mother became housebound. She became very thin and lost her appetite. As the new century dawned she fell victim to a heart attack and died within two weeks of going into hospital. It was a blessing in a way. Her kidneys were failing and she had a stomach cancer. The sudden heart attack spared her a slow agonising death. Dad had looked after her really well. We now needed to keep an eye on him.