How Close Are You to Your Parents?

Thanks to Covid-19, I’m one bedroom over

(Photo by Dušan veverkolog on Unsplash)

My dad moved in with me in February, 7 months ago. The Covid-19 pandemic led to a ‘choice’ for him to downsize.

I had the extra space.

I was so touched when dad mentioned possibly coming to stay with me for a while that I started crying on the phone to him.

And we aren’t one of those crying on the phone to each other kind of families.

But for 10 years I’d lived in South Australia, away from dad, who had always lived in Sydney — where I grew up.

And I had felt for a long time, even before I left Sydney honestly, the weight of an ever-present anvil in my heart. The anvil that had inscribed on it “We’re all going to die someday, and your dad, well, statistically sooner than others.”

Yes I know that’s not a nice thing to think about. But I’ve always been a pre-griever. I’ve been grieving the death of my gran since I was 10. I just turned 30 and she’s still alive.

So cohabiting with dad happened, and we haven’t murdered each other yet.

But recently he made a comment recently that made me stall. He was finishing up dinner while I started on the dishes. Dinner that I cooked that night.

“You know,” he said with the tone of someone expressing sage wisdom, “children never actually leave the nest.”

Now I’m not sure if you saw moments ago when I wrote that my dad moved in with me. But that’s what happened. I didn’t move back home. My dad. Moved in. With Me.

I was indignant, to say the least.

And to be fair, yes I can see his point.

We’ve navigated my dating. Quite a lot of my dating, like at least 10+ people. While sharing a living space.

As well as our different standards of living — I could only describe dad’s standard as severely, extremely high. And for a person (me) living with a chronic illness that sometimes has me sleeping 20 hours a day, severely, extremely high is not a standard I am capable of. My standard is more… cluttered.

And, there was the time I took in a foster dog for a week who had extreme behavioural issues and was incredibly aggressive towards men — he growled at dad a lot. Nobody had a good time.

Plus dad routinely makes sure I eat, that I’m not too depressed, picks up my medications for me, gets the groceries and overall helps me function as a human being.

So yeah, I’m pretty damn lucky my dad decided to fly back to the nest, even if it wasn’t actually to help me, he’s helped me in immeasurable ways. And my mum, stuck in Sydney with Covid-19 lockdowns, does just as much for me from a distance.

So how close am I to my parents? I would say severely extremely close.