Caring for My Aging Parents is a Tougher Gig Than I Expected
The four things I wish I knew from the start.
“I’m mad at you,” my mom said, staring out the window and refusing to look at me.
For two weeks, she said only a few words to me. I knew something was upsetting her, but I know better than to push. Battles are easier fought on her timetable.
“Why are you mad?” I asked, searching my mind for all the ways I might have failed her in the last few weeks.
“You didn’t take us to the party,” she finally sighed. “You didn’t even ask if we wanted to go.”
“What party?” We hadn’t been invited to a party in months.
“For the baby.” She looked up at me and my heart ripped apart by the pain in her 80-year-old eyes.
It took a dozen more questions before I connected her hurt with pictures she saw on Instagram. A young couple we know had a baby reveal party, and my mom was sure she was invited and I chose not to take her.
“Everyone else was there.” She reached her conclusion by the eight people she saw in the pictures.
“No, mom, just their family and a couple of friends. We weren’t invited.”
