Of Growing Older

I spent the afternoon visiting an elderly friend while her husband went out for a couple of hours. They are both in their 80's, and he is the primary caretaker. It was a gift to both of them as well as to me. He appreciated some time for himself, and she appreciated having someone else to chat with. She did most of the talking and kept apologizing for doing so. I reassured her that I enjoyed listening, and for most of the afternoon it was a conversation.

In some ways the visit disturbed me. Walking into their living room gave me flashbacks to more than 20 years ago. At that time I did some part-time work for a friend who was a court-appointed conservator for elderly people with no relatives in the area (or at all). After a death, I would go into the house to sort through belongings, clean the house, supervise the removal of furniture, and send specified "effects" to heirs. The living room I walked into this afternoon reminded me of many of those homes--stacks of papers, magazines, and newspapers; dirty carpets and dusty furniture; and a musty smell. And this couple is still able to do most things for themselves.

I know she will tell me not to, but I worry about Mom. Especially after visits like this afternoon's. I don't want to be one of those children who doesn't have time to regularly visit their parents. I don't want to arrive at her home one day and see piles of stuff gathering dust on unvacumed floors. I know that as the older son, I will probably end up as the primary caretaker. And you know what, that's okay. I want Mom to be as independent as possible for as long as possible, even if that means I have to figure out how to find a place big enough for her, my stepfather (he might as well be...), and me.

I also worry about me. When I got home this evening, I immediately cleaned up the couple of stacks of things around my apartment. The only stack left is the "working pile" on my desk, which I go through about once a month to clear out anything that needs to be filed, tossed, or dealt with. I don't want to be one of those people living surrounded by piles of stuff. It scares me a little to think that I could easily become one. I wonder, as a single person with no children, who will take care of me when I get to that stage of life?

All of which leads me to wonder, where is the church in all of this? Isn't this one of the things we should be doing, caring for our elders, our wise ones, those who have cared for us over the years?

Peace,
Jeff