Parents

Every expats greatest fears evolve around their aging parents (and other relatives).  We live in fear of that 2 am phone call that can’t bring any good news.  My father just had a very big birthday and since I had just spend the entire summer in Europe and the prices for flights hadn’t dropped as I had hoped  I wasn’t there for it.

No, that’s not my mom. I picked the Queen because my mom sure wouldn’t like to be shown on the Internet, but the Queen should be used to it. Pic:britannica.com

He is doing very well for his age, mind you, but just that: for his age and the questions I am inevitably facing is “how many more will there be?”, “How many good years will there be?  Years where he gets around, is mentally sharp and able to enjoy life and his only grandchild?”  Of course, I am facing the same questions for my mom, but she is a fewer years younger and hasn’t had a big round birthday recently so it is easier to ignore the concerns around her for the time being.

And it is not just birthdays that bring the inevitable to mind, everyday problems they are having, with paying bills, cleaning the windows, painting the bathroom ceiling and visiting friends who can’t easily be reached by public transportation, etc.  So fear and a bad conscience at some point are pretty much a constant, albeit low level, companion in ones life. The question of what happens when the parents can’t take care of themselves anymore is best repressed, as there is not answer to it.  There will have to be one, some day, but right now there isn’t.

I have a sister who lives close to home and takes care of things.  She resents me for being so far away and not helping out.  If I think about it, I understand that position.  But I didn’t run away from my responsibilities because they were too much, I left long before old age was an issue, and I left for what I thought would be a better life for me, not to avoid taking care of my daughterly duties.   That gets hard to keep apart at some point, though.  Problem is that by then one is so enmeshed in a new life and new responsibilities, for example towards a child who for all practical purposes is a little Californian, that one can’t just up and go forever.

I am thinking that spending a year there will give me the opportunity to paint and clean and file bills like a mad person – but I do know that it will not be the solution, just something to appease my conscience.