by Sherrin Griffin VP, Operations, Sidney SeniorCare –
We all know that one day we’ll be faced with the inevitable loss of a parent. Unfortunately, it’s a cruel reminder of the cycle of life that we all face, especially as we ourselves age. We can try to prepare ourselves mentally and emotionally for the harsh eventuality of becoming parentless, but there’s really no amount of preparation that will help to cushion such a devastating blow.
I feel incredibly blessed to still have parents that are now well into their 80s, but make no mistake – that doesn’t mean that I’ve actually accepted the fact that their time with our family will be coming to an end. I am very aware of my good fortune to still have both my parents, as I witness friends and colleagues lose theirs, followed by the insurmountable sense of loss and grief that go along with it.
I know that rationally my parents will not live forever … yet, I was still rocked to my very core when my 89-year-old father collapsed recently and was rushed to the hospital, his condition precarious and uncertain.
As a fairly “together” woman approaching her senior years, I’d worked hard to ensure I was strong and resilient, and could handle whatever life threw my way. I ate properly, exercised and did yoga regularly, and worked on my spirituality to achieve that inner calm and fortitude that could weather any storm. However, with my father’s collapse and resulting hospitalization, all of my hard-earned coping mechanisms flew out the window and I found myself weak and vulnerable, trying to cope with the simplest tasks of daily life. While my poor old dad was on his hellish journey, fighting for survival, it seemed that I was on a personal journey of my own, all the while painfully aware that for the first time I was not the one at the helm.
Thankfully, after a month-long hospital stay, my dad recovered from his collapse thanks to healing fluids, the power of antibiotics, a wonderfully caring group of nurses and care aides, and his own sturdy genes. With him even enduring a bout of Covid, amidst all of the other health concerns, I was beyond jubilant when he was finally discharged exactly one month from the day he was first admitted.
Our family had dodged the proverbial bullet … for now. With a new health baseline for my dad, life would be different for him and our family, but I was eternally grateful for whatever time we still had left, because the alternative was still simply unfathomable.
My dad has been on a six-month odyssey encompassing the indignity of incontinence, his struggles to accept a cancer diagnosis that is constantly threatening to defeat him, a frightening month-long hospital stay and his poignant awareness of his own mental decline that just seems grossly unfair. My own odyssey has been one of soulful growth: learning how to accept the things I cannot change, learning the true value of patience, learning how to best support my mother while she tries to take care of a husband she barely recognizes, and realizing the wondrous capacity of love.
There will always be work to do, a house to clean, errands to run and chores to finish, BUT I will find time, no matter what, and treasure every single second I have left with my dad. I’ll patiently and lovingly help him with his word search puzzles, listen to his favourite jazz with him, arrange his blankets “just so” for the millionth time, and pick up Denny’s breakfasts for dinner as many times as he wants; I’ll do whatever it takes to make him happy and give him comfort. I’ll do it not only because I don’t want to have any regrets after he’s gone, but more importantly because giving the gift of love, compassion and kindness to each other is really what gives life true meaning.
