There’s something happening in my life right now that I haven’t quite known how to put into words.
My parents are aging.
I know. Of course they are. Everyone’s parents age. But there’s a difference between knowing something intellectually and actually living inside of it. And right now, I am living inside of it. I’m noticing small changes compounding faster between visits. Whether I want to or not.
How fast will things change? I have no idea.
Will things change? Yes.
And what I’m discovering is that this season comes with emotions I wasn’t prepared for. Emotions that, frankly, no one around me seems to be talking about. Maybe because this just isn’t something we discuss openly. Regardless, I walked into this without a map. And I think that’s worth changing. Because everyone walks into it without a map.
Here’s what it actually feels like from the inside.
There’s grief. Real, quiet, persistent grief. Not the kind that announces itself. The kind that just settles in when you’re not looking. Grief that things are changing. Grief that the relationship is shifting in ways I can’t control. The dynamic’s between a parent and a child. The roles. The rhythms. All of it is slowly, gently, undeniably rearranging itself.
And part of me just wants to look away.
I’ll be honest about that. Part of me wants to stick my head in the sand and pretend none of this is happening. To show up at my parents’ house and just be their kid the way I always have been. To not notice the things I notice now. To not feel the weight of change.
But here’s where it gets complicated. Because there’s another part of me, running alongside that impulse to hide, that feels the exact opposite.
That part feels the fleeting-ness of life so acutely.
And that part wants to lean in harder. To linger longer at the dinner table. To ask more questions. To pay closer attention. To soak up every ordinary moment like it’s something rare, because I’m starting to understand that it is.
When I’m with my parents now, my emotions ping pong between those two states. Hide. Lean in. Look away. Pay attention. Grieve. Cherish. Sometimes within the same hour.
I don’t think I’m alone in this. I just think we’re not talking about it.
And here’s why that matters. Anytime we avoid a reality, anytime we collectively pretend something isn’t true, we don’t actually make it less real. We just make ourselves less ready. We rob ourselves of the chance to be fully present for something that deserves our full presence. We miss the moments when we’re hiding from the moments.
This isn’t a post where I’m going to tell you I have it figured out. I don’t. I’m in the middle of it. I’m ping-ponging. I’m grieving and leaning in and sometimes doing both in the same breath.
But I wanted to say it out loud. Because I think this season deserves to be named. I think talking about change helps us to be present for it.
And I think the people we love deserve us to show up for it. Eyes open. Heart open. Even when it’s hard.
Especially when it’s hard.
P.S. If you’re somewhere in this season too, I’d love to hear how you’re navigating it. And if this resonates, feel free to share it with someone who might need to know they’re not alone.
