I kinda knew this stage would be coming. The “parenting your parents” chapter. The one you sense on the horizon long before it arrives. And here we are.
But honestly? It is turning out to be this strange mix of payback, privilege, and comedy.
George, who will be 94 next month, has definitely slowed down. His dementia is progressive, and we are all adjusting to the new rhythms that come with that. But he is still mobile and still determined to live like a man who has places to be. Up until recently, he was navigating the transit system by himself, taking the subway and hunting for the elusive elevators at each destination. He is an inspiration to observe, and it doesn’t hurt that he is sooo cute.
And don’t worry. We have an AirTag on George so he won’t get too lost. The man is committed to roaming, and we are committed to keeping tabs on him… literally.
These days, I have become his chauffeur, his appointment taker, his cane upgrader, his karaoke escort, and, unexpectedly, his personal trainer.
Yes. Personal trainer.
A little stretching, leg and arm swings, and most importantly, leg and arm strength exercises. Every time I get him started, he thanks me. Constantly. As if I have cleared my schedule just for him. It is very sweet. And very funny.
And then there is Yasuko, the quiet powerhouse.
George’s wife of 67 years, my mom, is the real backbone of this whole operation. She makes sure he takes his meds, is dressed appropriately, eats healthy food, and doesn’t wander out the door with someone else’s clothes and shoes on. He, and we, would be absolutely lost without her.
But I can see the toll it is taking. The constant vigilance. The daily tasks that never end. The emotional weight of watching your partner slow down. So while I am busy helping George stay mobile, I am also keeping an eye on her, making sure she gets breaks, support, and someone to lean on. Caregiving is not a one-person sport, and she has been carrying the heaviest load for a long time.
The PSW Adventure (aka: Learning the System One Phone Call at a Time)
The PSW research is definitely something that has to be experienced. We fall under Ontario Health at Home, and then they categorize you based on where you live. After the phone assessment, they assign a number of care hours, pass that info to VHA, and VHA then schedules the PSWs.
It feels like a relay race where everyone is holding a clipboard.
The PSWs themselves are lovely, but limited. So far, they come to help George bathe and change. Helpful, yes, but also a reminder that the rest of the caregiving constellation still lands squarely on us.
The Unexpected Gift
What I didn’t expect was how much of a gift this stage would be.
To have parents who have reached their nineties with mobility, humour, and most of their faculties intact is rare. And to be able to support them in ways that feel meaningful rather than burdensome is even rarer.
There is something tender about watching your father do leg swings in the living room, determined to stay strong enough to keep riding the subway. There is something grounding about watching your mother quietly keep the household stitched together. There is something quietly profound about being thanked, over and over, for simply showing up.
It is not glamorous. It is not easy. But it is deeply human.
Ageing well is not just about green smoothies or yoga poses. Sometimes it is about family loops closing and reopening. Sometimes it is about becoming the personal trainer you never planned to be. Sometimes it is about noticing how cute your 94-year-old father still is.
And sometimes it is about finding the elevator at Bloor-Yonge.
94 year old cutie!
Oh, and I’m his personal barber as well!