When Kids Become Parents

My mother was the absolute core of our family. Her personality and overall presence demanded immediate attention and she was who we all looked to for approval, guidance, advice and answers. In June of 2005 she was diagnosed with cancer and it spread quickly through her lymph nodes. Six weeks later she was released from the hospital after successfully responding to radiation and chemotherapy. The morning following her release I received a frantic call from my father. My mother was hemorrhaging and my father was helpless. I only lived a mile away but by the time I arrived she had collapsed to the floor and a pool of bright red blood surrounded her. It was the most traumatic event I'd ever endured and it took years for me to recover and reach a certain peace concerning her death. My father has never recovered. He has never found peace. At times it feels as though he's a ghost just floating through life looking for his purpose, trying to find his way home, grieving the loss of the other half of his heart and soul.

Transitioning into a parent of a parent was a very confusing and painful event. I fought it every step of the way reassuring myself that my dad would "snap" out of it. I convinced myself that he was just going through the grief process. I was also dealing with my own intense grief and the grief of my children. My mom left behind four grandchildren that loved her dearly. If God was testing me, I was failing miserably. I tried everything with my dad. Compassion, understanding, empathy, sympathy, pity, anger, tough love...you name it, I tried it. I did everything I could think of to get my dad to care again. He gave up on life after my mom died and it became my job to take care of him.

Over several months and years following my mother's death, my dad slowly stopped doing the normal things that people do everyday. He would go weeks without bathing, changing clothes, buying groceries, cleaning house...the list goes on. As slowly as this began to happen, my role began to change as well. Before my mom died, my dad was the person that helped me clean my gutters, mow my yard, fix my car and was always the general "handyman" around my house. This was especially true after my divorce. When rainwater would spill over the sides of my gutter, my dad would bring his ladder over and make sure that every leaf and limb was removed before he left. When I couldn't find time to keep up with the lawn, my dad would spend hours mowing and trimming without ever complaining and at least once a week I'd look out my window during one of my parent's many visits to see my dad underneath the hood of my car checking the oil and water. Provider and protector was the role my dad held for 33 years until the death of my mother.

Suddenly I found myself in the same position I was in as a mother of four children. I had to constantly ask my dad if he had taken a shower or mowed his yard. I was constantly harrassing him to clean his house and go to the doctor. There was rarely a day that went by that I didn't have to ask my dad if he had managed to do some simple task or another. Even simple things like eating or grocery shopping became a topic of conversation usually ending with me reprimanding him for not achieving the task.

It has taken 3 years for me to finally realize something that I wish I had realized in the very beginning. The mistake I had been making with my dad was putting a question mark at the end of my sentences. Recently, I went to the store and bought three things. A dry erase board, markers and a pill dispenser. The dry erase board is a sectioned off as a calendar so I was able to create a day to day agenda for my dad to follow. Certain days are shower days, others are cleaning days and some days are chore days. I have to attach consequences to this daily chore list or my dad won't follow it (just like a child). If he doesn't complete what is on his list for that day then in return, I refuse to accompany him to the doctor or pay his bills. I took over his checking account and bill paying a year ago. I know it sounds mean but it's the only thing that has worked so far. My dad seems to operate better with a routine. The daily agenda creates a routine for him and once he got past his tantrums, I think he appreciates and welcomes this routine. Just like with a child, I've had to make good on a couple of my consequences but it only took a couple of the "putting my foot down" scenarios to show my dad that I meant business. This is still a work in progress and it's still too early to make any real assessments but I plan to keep posting and updating our progress. We've only been practicing this new formula for a few weeks. I've also had to take control of his medicine because he wasn't taking it properly either. I now have two pill dispensers that I trade out each week and give to my dad with all of his medicine already placed in the daily dispenser.

I'm not sure exactly what I can say or advice I can give to people in the same position as I find myself but I can say, KEEP TRYING NEW THINGS! If one solution doesn't work, think of something else and try it. For some people, it may be necessary to stop asking their parents if they've done something and begin telling them that they have to do it. It's hard and it's awkward in the beginning but just like your children, in the end it's for their own good!