\nIt\u2019s when one of the parents who once held your hand firmly when you were little no longer wants to be alone.
\nIt\u2019s when the father, once strong and unbeatable, weakens and takes two breaths before rising from his seat.
\nIt\u2019s when the father, who once commanded and ordered, now only sighs, only groans, and searches for where the door and window are\u2014every hallway now feels distant.
\nIt\u2019s when one of the parents, once willing and hardworking, struggles to dress themselves and forgets to take their medication.
\nAnd we, as their children, will do nothing but accept that we are responsible for that life.
\nThe life that gave birth to us depends on our life to die in peace.
\nEvery child is the parent of their parent’s death. Perhaps the old age of a father or mother is, curiously, the final pregnancy.
\nOur last lesson. An opportunity to return the care and love they gave us for decades.
\nAnd just as we adapted our homes to care for our babies, blocking power outlets and setting up playpens, we will now rearrange the furniture for our parents.
\nThe first transformation happens in the bathroom. We will be the parents of our parents, the ones who now install a grab bar in the shower.
\nThe grab bar is emblematic. The grab bar is symbolic. The grab bar inaugurates the “unsteadiness of the waters.”
\nBecause the shower, simple and refreshing, now becomes a storm for the old feet of our protectors.
\nWe cannot leave them for even a moment.
\nThe home of someone who cares for their parents will have grab bars along the walls. And our arms will extend in the form of railings.
\nAging is walking while holding onto objects; aging is even climbing stairs without steps. We will be strangers in our own homes. We will observe every detail with fear and unfamiliarity, with doubt and concern.
\nWe will be architects, designers, frustrated engineers. How did we not foresee that our parents would get sick and need us?
\nWe will regret the sofas, the statues, and the spiral staircase. We will regret all the obstacles and the carpet.
\nHappy is the child who becomes the parent of their parent before their death, and unfortunate is the child who only appears at the funeral and doesn’t say goodbye a little each day.
\nMy friend *Joseph Klein accompanied his father until his final moments.
\nIn the hospital, the nurse was maneuvering to move him from the bed to the stretcher, trying to change the sheets when Joe shouted from his seat: Let me help you. He gathered his strength and, for the first time, took his father into his arms. He placed his father’s face against his chest.
\nHe cradled his father, consumed by cancer: small, wrinkled, fragile, trembling. He held him for a long time, the time equivalent to his childhood, the time equivalent to his adolescence, a long time, an endless time. By Your Side Nothing Hurts
\nRocking his father back and forth. Caressing his father. Calming his father. And he said softly:
\n\u269c I’m here, I’m here, Dad! “What a father wants to hear at the end of his life is that his child is there.”
\nI love you, Dad, wherever you are, I always think of you, I will never forget you…\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"