This was triggered by some of the recent threads about parents dying and how hard it can be to lose one’s parents, even when they have lived long lives. But I would like to step back a few years before those kinds of events, before there is any immediate prospect of loss, when you are just living your life and your parents are living theirs.
I was never close to my parents, not as a child or a teen, nor as a young adult nor a mature adult. We were not estranged, but I didn’t have much to say to them, nor did I have much interest in their lives. I would dutifully visit, maybe every month or two when I was living in the area, or once a year when I moved much further away. These visits were usually restful, if boring. I was 54 when my mother died, and 60 when my father died, and I did not feel much in the way of grief or regret in either case.
So if you are or were emotionally close to your parents as a middle-aged adult, what was that like for you? Please describe your attitude and feelings in any words that come to you. I’m not so much interested in praise or eulogies (or blame) for your parents, I want to try to understand how it feels or felt for you.
sadly i lost both my parents before i was middle aged (i was early/mid 30’s). but i was quite close to them both all my life despite living far away from them for a while.
what can i say beyond the fact that it was really great? i could turn to both of them for wisdom and practical answers, and often did, especially once i reached my 30s. we could laugh and joke and have fun too. and even get upset with each other and know that doing so wasn’t the end of the world or a big crisis. i saw them as not just my parents but also as people, and rather good people at that. and i saw that my assessment was pretty accurate by the large turnout at their funerals.
they’ve been gone 28 and 31 years now and i still feel the loss, and still feel guided by their examples,
I am now 68. I lost my father nine years ago when he was killed in a motorcycle accident. My mother died just over two years ago now.
I loved them more than I do myself. When a careless driver killed my father I wanted to do a civil suit but mom couldn’t take that so I didn’t. What got me through his death was knowing he would not live as a cripple, and now is in Heaven. As the oldest child I escorted my mother into the church, and did not break down(then) in public because as I took mom’s arm I pretended to myself I was acting in a film and had to keep in character. Dad was a wonderful man, always supported my decisions. Like when I decided to join the Army. His main comment was “just remember, it;s not like any other job. You can’t just walk away if you decide you don’t like it.”
Mom was as sweet a woman as I ever knew. Both she and Dad were religious, meeting at church. I’m sure they had disagreements but they kept anything like that under wraps. Only once did I ever hear them arguing. They were faithful to each other all their lives, celebrating a 62nd wedding anniversary.
Like Qadgop says above their examples are something I have admired and try to live by, I feel so lucky to have had them. Examples of their good parentling are too numerous to mention. I look forward to seeing them again.
My dad died when I was in my twenties. He was a heavy smoker, and all the smoking-related diseases got him. He worked swing shift a very large part of my childhood, so I often never saw him except on Sundays. I liked him, but we were never that close. It felt to me that smoking was more important to him than us.
My mom and I never got along terribly well. We didn’t hate each other, but we didn’t “get” each other either. She died at 83, but it was drawn out, and it was hard to keep a high level of emotional concern with someone unconscious.
Maybe it sounds terrible, but neither death was a blow or upset me to the depths of my being.
I won’t hijack this much other than to say that I am incredibly envious of those of you who were close to their parents and enjoyed fulfilling relationship with them. I imagine that it is worth the pain of the eventual loss.
Except for my rebellious teenage years, I was always close to my parents.
A few years after I moved South, and after my father retired, they too moved South and lived with me for a few years until I got married. My [now ex] wife and I bought a house closer to the beach and my parents bought the house next door.
It was a great arrangement. When my daughters were young, it was nice having grandparents next door. We socialized daily.
My parents were my best friends. Dad and I had similar interests, and we had many lively debates over many years. We also enjoyed fishing and other activities together. Mom was always there for comic relief, and her home cooking couldn’t be beat. I never met anyone who didn’t like my parents. They were good folks.
After evenings at my house, I used to watch my parents shuffle on the pathway back to their house, always holding hands. It saddened me greatly realizing I wouldn’t be seeing this touching scene much longer (they were in their upper 80s by then).
When I was a kid and my daughters were young, my parents took good care of us. When they were old and debilitated, we took good care of them. Having them next door made it easy (…easier) to care for them and keep them in their home instead of a nursing facility.
Mom and Dad made it to age 90. I found Dad in rigor mortis in bed lying next to Mom. They were holding hands. Mom had late-stage Alzheimer’s by then and didn’t realize she was lying next to a cold corpse. I didn’t tell her.
My oldest daughter and I were holding Mom’s hands when she passed away peacefully a few months later.
I got the booby prize wife-wise, but parent-wise, I hit the jackpot. They are greatly missed.
My parents always lived two or more states away from us during my middle ages. They moved close to us only near the end, when they were both sick and frail and dying, to be near the grandkids, I suppose.
All of my extended family is on the east coast and I am out west. During their retirement years they became distant relatives, like the rest of the family, for the most part, altho my mother and I talked roughly weekly. I would not say we are emotionally close during those years. Still, as others are saying, losing a parent (or both) is like losing some guideposts.
What’s it like to be emotionally close to your parents when you’re middle-aged?
I am 61, and I’m calling that middle-aged, and in the last 10 years I’ve grown emotionally closer. What’s it like? It’s a journey where I have arrived at the point of acceptance that they did the best they could with what they had. It is me learning to be grateful for who they are, what they did to raise me, and the good values they imparted to me.
When I was a child they raised me to be independent and self-sufficient. In doing so I wasn’t very close to them as a child. I had parents. I loved them and I know they loved me, but if they were to have tragically died when I was a child (and, they did not), I probably would not have been torn apart emotionally because they raised me to be strong and independent. Put another way, and maybe this is a better way to put it — if I had died tragically as a child I don’t think they would have been torn up about it. If that makes any sense. And yeah I think that’s a better way to describe our relationship. They were emotionally distant people. That was then, in the 1960s and 1970s.
My dad died in 2014. He was 81. I was never close to my dad. I tried, and I’d get frustrated when he did not want to be close with me. I finally realized and accepted that’s who he is and that I needed to accept him for who he is and not who I wanted him to be. I did not have to accept him but to have wanted otherwise would have been an exercise in frustration for me, and that’s of no good use. But, sometimes that’s easier said than done.
I have recently grown close with my mom. Today she is 83. In 2015 she and I did a road trip to Houston Texas from San Francisco and that gave us the opportunity to do a lot of talking. She drove me crazy, until I realized that her quirks that drove me crazy were very much the same quirks I have! Imagine that. We have been closer ever since that road trip. I call her on a weekly, and we just chat.
Yes, I eventually reached that stage, which allowed me to give up my old bitterness and resentment. But by then it seemed to be too late to get close, which is something neither of us was good at anyway.
My older brother, who was my only sibling, died at the age of 25. I was 20 at the time, and I’m 45 now. I was close to my parents before that happened, but after his loss we have been and remain close. I live less than a mile away. I feel like I have an agreement with him, that I’ll take care of mom and dad while they are here on Earth, and then he will take over once they have passed on.
I’m 33 and very close to both my parents, who are now in their 60s. It’s only in the last 6 months that I’ve lived more than a 30 minute drive away from them. It’s been hard.
My dad is someone I can trust to listen carefully to what I say, think deeply about it, and provide a considered answer. He’s not very emotionally intelligent, but his academic knowledge is immeasurable (he loves me very much and doesn’t withhold affection or anything, he’s a very sweet man. He just doesn’t know how to talk deeply about emotion.) We have very similar artistic/aesthetic tastes and we both think critically about the things we see and read, and we each take seriously the other’s thoughts even when we disagree. It’s an incredible feeling to know that there’s someone who will put the same level of careful thought into something that I have and engage with me on any subject in good faith.
My mom is the best person in the world, she has a limitless capacity for empathy and kindness. Literally everyone who meets her comes away believing that she is some sort of incarnate saint. She loves people intensely and has a sharp insight into the ways people think and how their emotions inform their actions. There is a persistent sense of comfort and security that comes from having someone who loves you without condition.
I’m 44, and live on the same block as my parents, who live in my childhood home.
Dad just passed in January. I was always a “daddy’s girl” but I wouldn’t say he was my best friend or anything. Dad definitely got caught up in Fox News and I am on the opposite end of the spectrum so many times I would storm out of their house and not speak to him for days while I cooled off. Dad was a Vietnam combat vet, an alcoholic and a smoker. Somehow he was the sweetest, most generous guy and loved saying “I love you” and giving hugs. This is why we butted heads so much over his political & social views, because I knew how much they betrayed his true character. He was also stubborn as fuck and had a bunch of his own peculiarities, liking things “just so.” He was a high-school dropout and a true laborer, but he loved to learn and especially loved learning words. He did the crossword puzzle daily and liked it when I could help. He really appreciated my education, I think. He taught me a lot about tools in the garage. We enjoyed listening to baseball together. I always felt he treated me the same as my brother with regards to gender. I’ve never been a girly-girl and it didn’t seem to bother him. His last words to me were “You’re so kind.”
My relationship with my mom has always been close and loving but I think for the first 30 years she was just “Mom” and she was very, very good at the role. She had a shitty childhood and a bad relationship with her mom. She threw herself into the role of being mom, raising 2 kids and an overworked alcoholic husband. Once I moved out, and once she retired, I think is when I started seeing her as more of the person she is and not just a mom. I don’t know if we’ve ever truly butted heads like me and Dad. We started walking together years and years ago, and I think she really enjoys catching up with me every day. I noticed about a decade ago how she was really snippy and bitter for a while, but then she started going back to Catholic church and I noticed she really mellowed out. I like that for her. Her two best friends died within the past 3 years, and now she’s lost Dad. On top of all of this she has had limited mobility for the first time in her life due to a problem with a nerve in her leg. Dad died 3 weeks before her surgery. I’ve been taking care of her since before the surgery and I moved in for 10 weeks after the surgery. It was fine, we get alone really well. We probably could live together but I’m not ready to live with anyone (I’m super good at living alone). I guess I’m now her new best friend. I just want her to feel ok. As I said up top we live on the same block, so I see her almost every day.
This applies to me, too, and I also endorse this comment.
Even as a child (an only child at that) I was not particularly close to my parents. They weren’t very interested in my life. Now, as a childless widow, I’m deeply envious of people who are/were close to their parents and who have an emotional safety net of family support. Virtually all of my friends are quite involved with their immediate and extended families, and none of them can relate to me. They’ve actually said this to me when I’ve reached out for some kind of understanding. I’m an alien to them. The most I get is, “I don’t see how you do it.”
[Sorry if that was a hijack. The older I get the more this subject preys on my mind. Thanks to @Roderick_Femm for starting the thread.]
Yes, he was 85, His death happened on a Friday afternoon, so the coroner didn’t officially see him until Monday morning and declare the death. On Saturday the newspaper stated “85 yr old motorcyclist killed in accident” and that was pretty much enough for friends to know who it was. A guy in a truck behind him took his eyes off of the road to put in a CD and sandwiched my father between his vehicle and the one in front of him. According to the police report my dad didn’t die immediately by told an officer “It hurts” before passing out.
I lost my father when I was 21. He was wise and kind and I miss him every day. My mother may not live past today and I feel like I’m losing my home and my center.
What’s it like for a middle aged person…for me it both exhilarating and terrifying. I wasn’t particularly close to my parents as a small child. Started connecting as a teen (sorta). Today, my parents are two of my best friends. We are closer than ever now that I’ve finally reached adulthood in my 50s. It’s terrifying to watch their health decline slowly, to have that conversation with them and my siblings about estates and wills and health. For the first time ever, my mom is going on a trip to take my niece to a college seminar and wants me and Vaderling to come stay with Dad, just in case.
@Loach,I am so sorry for your circumstances, how you feel about your mom is a good testament to her, and I’m terrified because I see that situation just over the horizon for me.
I apologize but I’m the guy that Roderick_Femm doesn’t want to hear from. I always marvel when I see examples of those kinds of relationships, or when you see Olympic athletes praising their parents in interviews. Today at work, a former project manager showed up with a young man and they were behaving like good buddies. It turns out that the young guy was his son just starting an internship here, between first and second year university.
When I watch “Cousins” and see how Ted Danson’s character behaves with his son (yes I know it’s fiction) it literally makes me cry for something I never had.
