Solutions Through Compassionate Communication.
Q: How do you convince a family member or friend to change when your relationship seems to be headed for a cliff?
A: You can’t change someone else. But you may be able to change your relationship. Here are three questions to ask yourself:
1. What’s my contribution?
[Read more…]Everyone needs a will, but less than half of American adults have one. The young think they’ll live forever. Or they don’t have any wealth to worry about. But if you have a child or own a home, you need a will.
A May 18, 2016 Gallup poll found 44% of all adults had wills. But likelihood depended on age, education, and economic status. The percentage rose to 75% of upper-income (above $75,000 per year) college educated Americans 55 and older. That’s good news.
In Part I we named two reasons older adults might not have a will: (a) we can’t bear to contemplate our own death; and (b) we can’t decide how to distribute our wealth. Here are other reasons:
[Read more…]
In our book Love’s Way: Living Peacefully With Your Parents As Your Parents Age we urge readers to have a will. This is nothing new. Everyone above the age of thirty knows they need one.
Nevertheless, many people, from show-biz stars like Prince and Aretha Franklin, to legal giants like a Supreme Court Justice whose name I can’t reveal, have died intestate.
Might this be you? Of course, you, like they, know better. Then why haven’t you made a will?
This post was originally published under the title “Grandma’s Secrets: 5 Questions for Thoughtful Conversation” on Iona Senior Services’ website on October 9, 2018. Learn more about Iona at www.iona.org.
People in the last third of life have dynamic inner lives that their grownup children or grandchildren might never imagine. Next time you have an hour, here are some questions to ask your elder loved one. You may be amazed at the response.
1. How old do you feel in your spirit?
An elder’s inner age does not comport with chronology. Inside, I’m permanently about 34 years old. It’s how I feel as I go about doing life. That’s about the age of the female characters in my dreams. When I was that age, my children were young and law school was still on the horizon, but coming into view. Today, I’m a great-grandmother and a retired judge. But I’m still shocked every time I look in the mirror.
A man I’ll call George hired my friend, a social worker, to visit his “Uncle Milt.” George hoped my friend would persuade Milt, 96, to move from the home he loved on the East Coast to a nursing home in Nebraska near George. Uncle Milt, however, was firmly planted and said so loud and clear.
The social worker found Milt alert and engaging. She gave him a “mini-mental” test that showed minor memory loss but no dementia. Milt’s two long-time health-care aides were present. They kept him clean and well-fed and took him on outings. A neighbor looked in on Milt every evening. Clearly they all shared a deep affection for Milt. He seemed happy.
My friend informed George that Milt could safely remain in his home and recommended he be allowed to do so.
Changing roles is an inescapable byproduct of time. From your baby’s first step, to his first day at school — from the day she gets her driver’s license until her college dorm is in your rear view mirror — your role is changing. And your relationship evolves from all-knowing protector and teacher to “out to lunch” parent of a teen, to bankroller with a good idea once in a while, surprising your nearly grown college freshman.
Then, for several decades, the parent-child relationship becomes adult-adult. This period can be very pleasant. Like good friends, you help each other in a pinch, but live your own lives and make your own decisions.
Role reversal begins when the child assumes control of some aspect of a parent’s life. It may begin at the parent’s request and be relatively minor, such as taking care of Dad’s car maintenance, or driving Mom to medical appointments, doing income taxes or balancing checkbooks. This control shift is limited and non-intrusive. Inconvenience to the child is minimal and the parent is grateful. [Read more…]
When my father was 93, riddled with cancer, chronically nauseated, and living on opioids he suffered a major heart attack. In the hospital, doctors determined his death was imminent but didn’t tell him. Dad denied his condition was serious. He was furious to be given a room on the heart ward instead of the ICU.
Dad had signed a DNR (do not resuscitate) and disclaimed extraordinary measures. But he changed his mind when push came to shove. He raged for two days until, at my request, a female resident physician sat beside Dad’s bed and gently told him the truth. Then he agreed to accept palliative (comfort) care. He needed to hear his time was short and he could control how it was spent.
Palliative care (with or without Hospice) can be received in a hospital, a nursing home, or the patient’s own home. Medical interventions are out; comfort and pain relief are in. Surprisingly, comfort care often extends the patient’s life beyond expectations, perhaps because it allows him to set his own priorities as the end approaches. He might continue to attend church, meet a new grandchild, participate in a daughter’s wedding, or celebrate a family holiday. [Read more…]
On February 21, President Donald Trump met with teenage survivors of the Valentine’s Day massacre at Marjorie Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. The shooter with an assault rifle had murdered 17 students and teachers. The group included parents of victims of this and other school massacres.
Trump said he was there to listen.
The delegation had come to talk about the death of their children and schoolmates at the hands of a disturbed young man on the other end of an assault rifle. Trump is a strong supporter of the right to carry guns, so I imagine this could not have been easy for him. Compassion is not his comfort zone; neither is vulnerability. But he allowed the meeting to be filmed, not knowing what his visitors would say. He was willing – and prepared – to listen to some hard messages from people who were suffering.
It takes guts to start – and sometimes to stick with – a tough conversation. We’re afraid of triggering anger or hurt. Or being misunderstood. But some conversations are necessary.
Let’s say I’m wondering whether Mom and Dad have a will. And who’s the Executor? And who is getting what? Here’s the parade of horribles that might be going through my head:
My parents might think I want them to hurry up and die.
They might think I’m greedy.
They might think I’m trying to curry favor over my sister to get more than she does.
They might think I’m trying to trying to control what they do with their own money, as if it’s already mine.
They might think it’s none of my business. And say so!
In October of 2015 the man who had been my husband for fifty-six years died. December found me still numb with grief. As my children and I struggled to navigate the season without a compass, we were feeling a lot of things. Joy wasn’t one of them. If it was there, it was buried under a thick layer of pain.
It was time to write the annual holiday letter Jerry and I had always written together, but I felt lost.
Should I just skip it and leave friends wondering whether they’d been abandoned? Should I spill tears all over the page? Should I put on a happy face to hide the pain?
None of those choices seemed right.
Then I reflected on what had followed Jerry’s death. I realized that this was a season when grief, like the Wise Men, came bearing gifts. [Read more…]