Honor Thy Father and Mother … while you still can

I’m writing this column from Southern California, where I flew in from Idaho two weeks ago to stay at my parents’ house. This visit comes at a particularly difficult juncture. There is a high probability that, after I leave to return home later this week, I won’t see one or both of my parents again.

To recap, my mother (currently 93) had a stroke a few years ago that pretty much took out her right (dominant) side. At first, things were manageable. Certainly my dad (who turns 90 in July) could care for her himself. For the next couple of years – as my mother’s mobility decreased – he did a wonderful job. Mom graduated from a cane, to a walker, to a mobility scooter, to a wheelchair.

My mother’s speech was impacted by the stroke, but she still managed to make herself understood. I could speak with her on the phone, and as long as I was patient with her answers, we could communicate fine.

Then, last October, both my parents came down with COVID. My dad recuperated at home, but my mother was hospitalized and then placed in a nursing home for a couple of weeks until she was well enough to return home.

No one knows if it was the COVID that precipitated what happened next, but over the next few months, my mother’s physical and cognitive health declined rapidly. My three brothers (one of whom lives an hour away, and the other two of whom live about four hours away) started taking turns visiting, helping my father with my mother’s physical care – getting her to the bathroom, feeding her, etc.

At one point, one of my brothers literally had plans to just spend one night. But then my dad took a fall (tripped in the middle of the night on the way to the bathroom) and received some muscle damage in his arms as well as other bumps and bruises. Thank the good Lord, my brother was there at the time, and he was able to help both our parents in the immediate aftermath of Dad’s fall.

Suddenly, my father was physically unable to care for my mother at all, because of the muscle damage in his arms. My brother’s overnight trip turned into a two-week venture. When he needed to return home, another brother took his place, then another, all tag-teaming to make sure our parents were OK. Clearly, I needed to do my share.

Then, before I could fly down, my mother’s health reached a crisis point. She was hospitalized for a few days, then transferred to a rehab facility which is, thankfully, only a couple of miles away from my parents’ house. She is unable to speak coherently, unable to walk, sit up without assistance, etc. Her decline (both mental and physical) is so abrupt that everyone is baffled. Possibly it’s due to rapid-onset Alzheimer’s resulting from COVID; we don’t know.

While originally I thought I would be here to assist with my mother’s physical care, the urgency of that reason disappeared when she was transferred to the rehab facility. My job then became convincing my dad that Mom cannot come home, for her own safety.

My dad is a former engineer; he’s a logical thinker; but this was his blind spot. My parents have been married – more like joined at the hip – for 66 years, and he couldn’t accept that she had to stay under expert care. My brothers were gently trying to convince him, but he wouldn’t agree.

The trouble is, Mom is not responding to any of the therapies offered in the rehab center (speech/physical/occupational), and the staff is recommending she be transferred to the other side of the building, to the long-term care facility. Dad didn’t want this; he wanted her home.

Then, on my second evening here, we went to see my mom and feed her dinner (Dad is there twice a day, feeding her both lunch and dinner), and she was so out of it that it became clear even to my dad that she couldn’t come home. He had a rough night and a rough follow-up morning as he came to grips with this reality. It was for this reason, if no other, that I’m glad to be here to support him.

Part of the urgency to have my dad accept this situation is because as long as my mom is a patient at the rehab facility, then she has a smooth and automatic transfer to the long-term care facility. But if she’s removed from the rehab center (to come home), then she loses that status and will be placed on a waiting list. And … she can’t wait. For her physical safety, she needs skilled care.

Meanwhile, my father’s health is also precarious. Aside from being increasingly frail as he approaches 90, he suffered a heart attack 35 years ago that still has cardiac repercussions today. He refused a pacemaker implant in December, claiming his doctor said it was unnecessary, though my youngest brother believes he didn’t want to leave my mother during the time it would take to have the procedure done. My brother believes Dad is not letting on the extent to which his heart may fail. We all agree he’s hanging on for my mother’s sake. My thought is, once my mother passes away, my father will conclude that his work on this earth is finished, and follow her to the next life.

Throughout this difficult visit, I am heartened by my parents’ continued devotion to each other. Dad and I go to the nursing home twice a day to feed my mother lunch and dinner, and to spend time with her. Her face lights up when she sees my dad. She even managed to say “I love you” to him. This clip is not of my parents, but it might as well be:

When you have a good reason, it’s never too late to learn… pic.twitter.com/Y0Hg5bzmd5

— The Figen (@TheFigen_) April 6, 2025

After I fly home late this week, I have no guarantee I’ll see my parents again in this life. As you can imagine, it will be a very difficult parting.

Please, dear readers, honor thy father and mother. You never know how long you’ll have them.