Have you ever heard the term “the sandwich generation”? I’ve heard it used to refer to people, especially women, who find themselves caring for their aging parents while they still have children under their roof. It seems like this mostly occurs where their parents gave birth to them later in life and they also didn’t have kids till late in life. It’s a unique struggle that is becoming more common.
Every summer they leave Houston and fly to their house in Boston for five months. It’s just something they do, regardless of how much sense it makes. Last year while they were there, my grandfather passed out, hit his head and wound up in the hospital and then a rehab center. The big problem with that is no one to care for my grandmom, who can’t drive herself, can’t cook anything anymore, and is struggling with a bit of dementia. At the time my leg was broken so my flying to Boston wouldn’t be helpful. My sister had a newborn. So my mom (their daughter-in-law who remarried after their son died) and her husband drove up from Philadelphia to help. It was a struggle.
My grandmother is one of the most quietly prideful women I’ve ever met. She was suddenly thrust into a situation where her beloved husband could not care for her and she was forced to “admit” (though really she admits nothing) that she needed help. Much like a child, she was frightened and insecure deep down, I’m sure, but that manifested itself in distrustfulness and ingratitude towards those trying to help.
Eventually my grandfather recovered enough to come home and with hired help they were able to come back to their home in Houston. I managed their finances while he couldn’t and realized how huge of a burden just sorting their mail and paying bills for two houses is. Together we attended several lunches and tours at a wonderful nearby retirement home where several of their close friends already live. I was hopeful they would move in, and my grandfather expressed his desire to, but as my grandmother’s confusion increases, her death grip on what she knows only gets stronger. They’ve been married for almost 70 years and he does everything he can to avoid pissing her off, so although he mentions it to her often, she says she likes things just the way they are. She is the queen of denial, and honestly believes they will both be healthy and able to drive to dinner ever night till they are past 100. Really he probably shouldn’t be on the road now, but until they move it’s necessary.
So today they are off to Boston again for the summer. I came over Saturday and got my grandmother started with her packing. She would go over the same article of clothing five times, not remembering she already had, before determining it shouldn’t go. She packed like ten pairs of shoes she will never where because she only has two pair that don’t hurt her feet. She’s got a terrible staph infection on her leg that doesn’t seem to be getting better with antibiotics, but it has already caused a two week delay in their trip so now she’ll hopefully just see a doctor in Boston. God forbid they not go.
Yesterday, when I was supposed to be working, I got a call from my grandfather pleading with me to come over and help my grandmother finish packing. I’m not sure why he can’t get her motivated and I can, but naturally I went. And in a few minutes I’m headed to pick them up to drive them to the airport, hoping and praying they really are packed, but knowing there will likely be last minute chaos.
What works for me, when I remember it, is prayer and reminding myself that nothing about this situation is out of God’s sovereign control. Nothing surprises him. Even the worst case scenario won’t kill me. I may struggle with how to solve the next crisis, but I can trust that it’s all in His hands. And remembering to be grateful for my amazing grandparents and the legacy they have left me and their great-grandchildren helps immensely too.
