When I first heard my father’s age, I was taken aback. My mom is just a year older, and I couldn’t help but blurt out, “So that means Mom is…” My dad chuckled and replied, “Thirty-nine!” I had to remind him, with a hint of surprise, that I’d be turning 39 this summer.
I left my home state for college while my parents were in their mid-40s. Fast forward to now, and they’re on the brink of 60. It’s only recently that I’ve noticed how much I’ve missed their lives in those intervening years. Somewhere along the line, they’ve aged. They now qualify for senior discounts at theme parks and movies, though they remain vibrant and adventurous. Still, things have changed.
These days, whenever the school calls and their name pops up on my phone, my heart skips a beat until I hear that my kids are alright. It’s a reflex born from motherhood, especially since I’m a proud “boy mom.” What’s more, when my parents’ number shows up after 8 p.m., my heart races again.
When I catch up with friends, our conversations have shifted from just our kids’ activities and upcoming vacations to deeper discussions about our parents’ health. We share concerns about cancer, the early signs of dementia, and worries about their driving and finances. We talk about health insurance and estate planning. At 38, I find myself losing sleep over both my children and my aging parents. It’s a tough spot, and it’s no wonder so many of us are reaching for anti-anxiety meds and therapy—there’s a lot on our plates.
Even with all my adult responsibilities, being around my parents still makes me feel like a kid again. Sure, I’m a “grown-up” with children who call me “Mommy,” but I still see my parents as the true adults in the room. I’ve achieved many milestones—graduating, building a career, marrying, having kids, and checking off life’s to-do lists. Yet now, I sense a shift toward a phase defined by loss—my children will grow up, my body will inevitably change (and not for the better), and my parents will continue to age. It feels like the things I value most are slipping away like sand through my fingers. Is this what they call mid-life? Am I on the verge of a crisis?
At the core of my worries is a genuine sense of gratitude for all that I cherish in life, including my own grandparents. But with those blessings comes the stark reality of loss, and I have a lot to lose. As I navigate parenting, often feeling like I’m failing spectacularly, I carry this weight of anxiety. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, for my heart to be tested once more.
My dad introduced me to the magic of music, and Fleetwood Mac often serenades my thoughts. Lyrics swirl in my mind…
Oh mirror in the sky,
What is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Well, I’ve been afraid of changing
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I’m getting older, too.
As my family grows and evolves, I feel the ground shifting beneath me. Aging is a journey we all share, and I’m right there in the mix.