More time

No matter how much you get, you'll wish you had more. What will you do with it?

The day after Thanksgiving in 2020, I arranged for my dad to go to another skilled nursing facility. I lost count, but I think it was his fifth or sixth facility in five years. His congestive heart failure, coupled with a long early-pandemic hospital stay for appendicitis, had made living independently impossible. We did all the paperwork, got a service to bring him to CVS for a PCR test, packed his bag with undershirts and slippers, and waited for the wheelchair transport van to arrive.

We sat in his apartment, me on the floor with my 10-month-old and him in his giant brown pleather recliner, the plastic cover swishing and crunching as he reached for another bite of the Thanksgiving leftovers he was eating for breakfast. The smell of reheated turkey and stuffing hung in the air so thick I could smell it even through my KN95.

“You ready for a new place?” I asked as we waited.

“I might die in there,” my dad said.

I swallowed the urge to invalidate his fear, to tell him it would be fine. “Yeah,” I said. “Who knows what will happen.”

My dad got to hold my 10-month-old before heading off to his final rehab facility.

He sensed that he didn’t have much time, and he told me so, explicitly. But I still didn’t ask every question I should have. I still didn’t get him to do an oral history, or record a video for my kid, or fill out a journal with his life story. I didn’t ask him the questions about my life that only he could answer—when did I learn to read? Was my mom lonely those first couple of years? What was I like as a toddler? I didn’t track down his will, ask whether he still had a life-insurance policy, or double-check his wishes for a funeral.

I started this newsletter to save you from making the same mistakes I made as my parents were aging.

The biggest mistake I made as my parents were aging was that I thought I had more time.

I made this mistake over and over and over again.

If you still have both parents, one parent, a collection of stepparents, or people who were like parents in your life, you can still stop yourself from making it.

Not engaging with the fact that your parents are aging is like ignoring a toothache. It’s never going to get better on its own. If you wait, it’s just going to hurt (and cost) more.

But I can practically see some of you, whose parents are still tailgating every home football game or running marathons or cruising the Caribbean, tuning out, thinking my advice is for other people, people whose parents are truly old, frail, dependent.

When I lost my mom, I was just 24. She got a scary diagnosis at the end of February that year, and she was gone before St. Patrick’s Day. She was 55.

The day she died, we had to rush her to the hospital because her blood pressure was dropping and she felt woozy. I headed downstairs to pull my parents’ minivan around as my dad got her ready to go. She pulled on my shirt as I walked to the door and said, “Lauren, I’m dying.”

“Today?” I asked, trying to make her laugh.

And she did die. That day.

Even when she literally told me what was happening, I thought I had more time.

I don’t say this to scare you—my mom had an exceptionally rare type of cancer, and what happened to her probably won’t be the case for your parent. But I do say it to remind you of two things—one, things can happen suddenly, and second, no matter how much time you have with your parents, you’ll wish you had more.

What would you do with more time? I know what I would do, now that both my parents are gone. I would spend every second soaking up the relationship I had with them, asking them questions, and taking pictures, no matter how sick or sad they seem at the time. If you have the gift of time, think of how you want to spend it.

Here are three practical (but not necessarily easy) things you can do right now to take advantage of the time you have with your parent:

• Ask them just one question about your childhood. Once your parents are gone, so is the ultimate source of truth about yourself. So, make a habit of asking these questions now. Don’t make it weird. When you are chatting with them, let something come up naturally. When you’re talking about books, ask them what your favorite book was as a toddler. Your kid has a snow day? Ask your mom whether she stayed home with you on snow days and what you did together. If you’re going biking, ask who taught you how to ride a bike. I’m not suggesting you interview your parent (more on that in the future), but just lean into asking questions that you normally wouldn’t. Each time you interact with them, try to ask them just one question like this.

• Print or find a photo of your parent at a time when you remember them being happy and healthy. Put it somewhere you see it often—on your fridge, tucked into your wallet, by your desk. As your parent gets older, it can be easy to see them only as the needy, stubborn, or mean version you’re getting at the moment, so it’s important to stay connected with your best memories of who they are at their core.

• Reflect on what your parent values. Take a moment to think about your parent’s life right now. Not 10 years ago, not 10 years from now, but right at this moment. What brings them joy? Purpose? What’s their living situation like? Are they safe? Satisfied? Independent? What are they worrying about? You cannot make the most of the time you have left with your parent if you are not seeing things from their perspective. Luckily, that’s a thing you can start doing right now.