An Investment in Old Age

Now that I’m a bit more mobile from last June’s back surgery, I’m finally able to once again visit my mother in her assisted living complex. Not much has changed. Mom still looks good, and most of the faces of the staff and her fellow residents are still the same.

It was also nice to once again to hear the residents’ loud whispered comments in my wake as I walk by. “That’s Connie’s son!” they say, believing I can’t hear them. There’s something reassuring being known as “Connie’s son” for the first time since elementary school. There’s another comment, though, that leaves me quite uncomfortable. And that comment is, “He’s such a good son!”

Now you’d think I’d be glad to hear that. But context is everything. Our Italian culture darkly frowns on farming out an aged parent to an old-folks home run by strangers. The realities of 21^st America forced that decision on us and, even though Mom understands and has welcomed it, there’s still that nagging disconnect in the back of my head.

Mom is the rare parent who, in my experience, has ended up in a facility. Parents of nearly all my friends and relatives have been able to stay in their own homes, or lived with an adult child. So hearing someone call me a “good son” is less a compliment than an indictment. Context provides an explanation here, too. A sad one.

Last Christmas, when Helen and I picked up Mom for a late afternoon holiday dinner with our dear friends the Alveys, the facility was all but deserted. I greeted the aide on duty cheerily, noting that most of the residents must have already been picked up to celebrate with their families. The aide’s eyes blazed.

“No,” she spit with contempt. “Hardly any families showed up.”

Close your eyes for a minute and let that sink in.

No one ever expects to be old and infirm. The sunny, smiling, twenty-something Connie I see in old pictures never thought about being 99-years-old, confined to a wheelchair and unable to care for her basic needs. But that’s where most of us will be – if we’re lucky.

While ageing is a reality we can’t change, we can make it easier for the aged. Make a friend at a nursing home and visit every week or two. Maybe read to them. Ask about their younger selves. Or if you really want to see their faces light up, ask them to pull out old family pictures. You’ll end up wondering whose heart warms the most – theirs or yours.

Caregiving is part of God’s commandment to love our neighbor. Consider it an investment in grace. God’s grace.