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Apparently Troy and I are in the Sandwich Generation as middle aged people who are simultaneously caring for children and elderly parents. Of course Huck is an adult who’s doing fine on his own, but there’s still emotional labor involved in parenting him from afar (as well as his financial dependence on us). And nothing compares to the stress and sadness of watching your parents grow older and lose their memories, personalities, and marbles.
In an urgent turn of events, we’re moving both of mine into a lovely facility in Wichita near my sister Lori this weekend. Dad and his best friend Elvis the dog will be in a one-bedroom assisted living apartment while Mom and her stuffed animals will be down the hall in memory care. For them to be under the same roof again answers a lot of frantic prayers over the last four and a half years, and though this is a life change like no other for all of us, we three sisters are grateful. And a little unhinged.
These past few weeks have been a frenzy of trips back and forth between Kansas and Arkansas (and Iowa for my sister Jeni) as we navigated dementia, toured facilities, and began preparing our childhood home – where I was brought as a newborn with sideburns in 1970 – to be emptied and sold. (Does anyone want a painting?) Husbands took turns taking their father in-law to the neurologist, giving new meaning to the phrase “in sickness and in health.”
Due to a refreshing bit of timing, in the middle of all this was our long planned trip to Pittsburgh for fall break. Huck was a welcome breath of fresh air with his youth and carefree conversations. He excitedly showed us every single classroom of every single class he has taken or is taking at CMU, and in one of them he gave us a sample T.A. lecture that took me right back to his childhood. (Except that back then I could pretend to know what he was saying.) He made us smoothies every morning in his beautiful apartment, showed us “The Dungeon” where he builds sets, props, and costumes, and together we explored beautiful Pittsburgh. When I look at our one and only progeny and imagine the three of us in 30 years, I feel bad for not giving him at least two siblings.
In between our travels west and east, last week Otis developed seasonal allergies and was prescribed steroids that can, and did, cause incontinence. All over our house. I’m not sure how a one-year-old sneezing, peeing, adorable puppy fits into the Sandwich Analogy, but it’s getting crowded in here.
After returning from Pittsburgh I emptied my suitcase, did some laundry, and filled it up again to head back to Kansas for one more night on Marc Street with my dad and sisters. Can I handle the seasons of my life? I hope so.