A lot can change in a year

Revisiting a poem I sent you a year ago today

Photo credit: Freshwater and Marine Image Bank

A year ago today, I had just helped Mom relocate to her new home in a nearby retirement community. Here’s what I said then:

This is a good, big thing; too big to narrate in real time. I shared a few vague, bittersweet glimpses on Instagram, but otherwise I’ve been pretty quiet about this epic transition.

It’s frustrating because I want more than anything to talk to you about the experience and hear yours.

For many of us, supporting aging parents is a major part of the “parent of adults” phase and I haven’t had much opportunity to discuss it in community. But I’ve come to accept my wordless periods are necessary and trust the story needs time to develop.

A year later I’m the opposite of wordless about the experience. There are SO many words. The challenge is stringing them together into something coherent.

I’ve sketched the outline of my feelings about the house and the decluttering, but there’s so much more to say and learn, and even more seems to reveal itself over time.

It’s vast territory. I’m grateful we’ve begun to explore it together here. The glimpses into your families’ lives have helped me make better sense of my own.

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I wrote this poem a year ago today, when so little felt familiar. I’m not a poet — I don’t even read poetry! — so it sort of arrived out of the blue.

The words land differently this year. I’m juggling a whole new set of variables, and with them grateful recognition that last year’s turbulence has settled.

I’m getting ready to go to Mom’s apartment for Thanksgiving. We decided not to travel this year. It will just be Mom and me for dinner: Rael has a nasty cold (no COVID🤞🏽) so he’s staying home, and both kids are in Minnesota.

Instead of turkey, there will be Thanksgiving halibut.

Amazing how much things can change in a year.

Wishing you a warm Thanksgiving with love (and 🐟),