My father was the most stubborn member of our family. Sure, some might nominate me for the honor, but I insist it was him.
For instance, he remained adamant that he was perfectly capable of driving late in his life, despite his long battle with multiple sclerosis that left him unable to move his right foot from the accelerator to the brake without lifting his leg with his hand.
His wife eventually called and said it was time for me to take away his keys. The “for better or worse” in their wedding vows apparently had a contractual clause: Unless you can delegate the difficult conversation to his oldest kid.
It turned out that I’ve got a knack for the types of talks adult children never want to have with their parents. You know, the ones about health, finances, safety, senior-targeted scams, living arrangements, sharing streaming service accounts and more.
Thankfully, I’ve been spared from any sit-downs regarding the rise in sexually transmitted infections among seniors, but if your pops needs a talking-to, my rates are reasonable.
Granted, my wife and I are down to one parent — her father — so the lessons I’ve learned could benefit others more than me going forward.
You’re welcome.
Be willing to be the bad guy
My father-in-law collapsed and was hospitalized while we were out of the country in the summer of 2024. Fortunately, our adult kids were there for him, but there were decisions to make upon our return.
The one we made immediately: He could no longer live alone. And, no, his mercurial Maltipoo didn’t count as a roommate.
We assured him that he — and, OK, his pooch — could live with us as he had during a few recuperations. Discussions included having various family members stay with him, though that might’ve required some to move from out of state. And we looked into hiring trained help to be with him when we couldn’t be because of work, even starting the interview process.
He wasn’t thrilled with any of the options and was dead set against some of them.
Finally, without warning my wife, I broached the topic no one else would touch.
“OK, I’ll be the (expletive), and you can get mad at me,” I told him and my wife. “But what about moving into a retirement community?”
I told him how my grandmother had liked having her own apartment, the ability to socialize when she wanted and to avoid everyone when she preferred. Help would be available whenever he needed it. I started to extol the virtues of the communities, feeling a little like Tony Soprano must have when he tried to talk his mother into making the move.
Then …
“You know, I’ve been thinking about one of those places,” he interjected and said he’d recently received some brochures about assisted-living locations. “They’re not what they used to be.”
Within a few days, he and my wife picked the welcoming spot where he’s enjoyed living for nearly two years, a mile from his house and his wood shop, where he returns to work, always with his feisty, furry companion.
Don’t delay
No one wants to talk with Mom and Dad about their final wishes, and some parents make sure it’s not necessary by taking care of plans for cremation, burial, services, memorial concerts, etc.
We learned in a painful way that you might not get the opportunity to ask if you wait.
My mother’s illness went from something she opted to ignore to dire to it’s-a-matter-of-days so quickly we were unable to focus on anything other than the cancer diagnosis that blindsided us. And when she was sedated to deal with excruciating pain in her apparent final days, we were left to wonder what she would want.
After all, she was only 57, and who really thinks of such things at that young age? (OK, that’s how old I am now, so I consider it quite youthful, but I guess I should drop my kids a pin for the stretch of Caribbean beach where I want my ashes spread.)
Fortunately, my mother had a couple days of clarity before she moved to a hospice and died, and we got some of the answers we needed. Just as important, we learned that being timid about those types of conversations to prevent temporary awkwardness helped no one.
Grow a backbone and do what’s necessary. It eventually will be a relief that you did.
Fight dirty
My dad had no interest in surrendering his keys and insisted he would be fine behind the wheel. He’d take extra precautions, limit his driving to short errands and church.
And, by the way, I should mind my own business.
Then I broke out a slight variation of the argument he employed with his own dad after my grandfather backed out of his driveway … across the street … all the way into the neighbor’s garage door.
He had asked: What if there had been kids playing across the street?
I got more specific and hit him with a scenario he couldn’t brush aside. And, well, I insisted it was my business.
“What if you hurt one of your grandkids, one of my kids, because you couldn’t stop?” I asked. “Could you live with yourself?”
He never drove again.
Some of us have to resort to applying pressure on our parents to do the right thing and end up feeling guilty about it. Others of us are more direct — perhaps even more parental — than our parents ever were as they avoided awkward talks with us as teens, and the role reversal can be disconcerting.
We know we’re looking out for them, though, and that gives us the peace of mind to play the part no one wants.