the sandwich generation
I've heard us called the "sandwich generation" -- the generation that has both children and elderly parents to care for. As people are living longer, this is generally becoming a more true statement.
I have two living parents, as well as my in-laws, who are all in their mid-seventies and beyond. They are all living independently of any care, but as time continues to go forward, that will change. Steve and I are the only children who live within less than an hour's drive for all of them. We are afforded the blessing of having them in our lives, and in our children's lives.
But with this also comes responsibility, the knowledge that we are the ones of all our siblings who are the closest caretakers as they age. This can make one pause just at the thought. Are we really adult enough for this? No moving off to Seattle if it beckons. The decision to stay put for as long as needed, it's a decision our self-serving culture can wrestle with.
But there is honor in it.
I think many of us in the so-called sandwich generation feel the burden of caring for our parents, of what will come, as we are also planning for the futures of our own children at the same time. A position that requires divided attention. Navigating the waters of lives at different stages, as well as our own.
But it is an honor. An honor to be there for them in times of grief, because unless things happen differently, one parent will be left behind for a time. An honor to help them find a final living place, as both our sets of parents are still in their own homes. An honor to help them transition into the final years. My parents have found a beautiful retirement establishment that also offers assisted living. My father has painstakingly researched and put a plan into motion for them if they need that kind of arrangement. It affords him peace.
My mother is not so sure, and definitely not sure at this time she would move there without him at all. Thoughts of leaving her beautiful home are hard as you would expect. It's these kinds of decisions that they will make independently of us, until they are no longer able. A transitioning to lesser freedom that can be hard for them. I pray for the roles we play when the time comes to be effective and honoring.
My children know their grandparents much better than I knew mine. To have grandparents who invest in them emotionally, spiritually and spend time with them, is a great blessing and one we don't take for granted. Are there boundaries we all need? Yes. Do the grandparents know every detail of our lives? No. But we share as much as we can, as even the every day life of our kids is interesting to them. Their lives are settling down (not so much though), and our kid's lives are awakening to the bright future that lies ahead for them.
The sandwich generation. A place of blessing, honor, and careful strategy.
I recently listened to an interview on NPR with Roz Chast, a cartoonist for the New Yorker who wrote a funny, heartbreaking book chronicling her journey with her aging parents until their deaths, entitled "Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant?"
This is the link to the interview on NPR. I found her refreshingly candid, as she is transparent about her feelings of frustration and guilt as to her role, as well as her sadness in seeing her parents die. Although her story is pretty different than mine, it's an interesting place to visit if you find yourself in that place, and begin the discussion.
I have two living parents, as well as my in-laws, who are all in their mid-seventies and beyond. They are all living independently of any care, but as time continues to go forward, that will change. Steve and I are the only children who live within less than an hour's drive for all of them. We are afforded the blessing of having them in our lives, and in our children's lives.
But with this also comes responsibility, the knowledge that we are the ones of all our siblings who are the closest caretakers as they age. This can make one pause just at the thought. Are we really adult enough for this? No moving off to Seattle if it beckons. The decision to stay put for as long as needed, it's a decision our self-serving culture can wrestle with.
But there is honor in it.
I think many of us in the so-called sandwich generation feel the burden of caring for our parents, of what will come, as we are also planning for the futures of our own children at the same time. A position that requires divided attention. Navigating the waters of lives at different stages, as well as our own.
But it is an honor. An honor to be there for them in times of grief, because unless things happen differently, one parent will be left behind for a time. An honor to help them find a final living place, as both our sets of parents are still in their own homes. An honor to help them transition into the final years. My parents have found a beautiful retirement establishment that also offers assisted living. My father has painstakingly researched and put a plan into motion for them if they need that kind of arrangement. It affords him peace.
My mother is not so sure, and definitely not sure at this time she would move there without him at all. Thoughts of leaving her beautiful home are hard as you would expect. It's these kinds of decisions that they will make independently of us, until they are no longer able. A transitioning to lesser freedom that can be hard for them. I pray for the roles we play when the time comes to be effective and honoring.
My children know their grandparents much better than I knew mine. To have grandparents who invest in them emotionally, spiritually and spend time with them, is a great blessing and one we don't take for granted. Are there boundaries we all need? Yes. Do the grandparents know every detail of our lives? No. But we share as much as we can, as even the every day life of our kids is interesting to them. Their lives are settling down (not so much though), and our kid's lives are awakening to the bright future that lies ahead for them.
The sandwich generation. A place of blessing, honor, and careful strategy.
I recently listened to an interview on NPR with Roz Chast, a cartoonist for the New Yorker who wrote a funny, heartbreaking book chronicling her journey with her aging parents until their deaths, entitled "Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant?"
This is the link to the interview on NPR. I found her refreshingly candid, as she is transparent about her feelings of frustration and guilt as to her role, as well as her sadness in seeing her parents die. Although her story is pretty different than mine, it's an interesting place to visit if you find yourself in that place, and begin the discussion.