I’ve heard this before and it’s undoubtedly true.
I’m grown with kids of my own – but it makes me want to weep thinking about losing my parents.
Life goes on, I know.
But you limp forever and always after that.
IN THE EARLY 1980s, a friend whose father had been killed crossing the street and whose mother had committed suicide on Mother’s Day advised me, “If you have anything to work out with your parents, do it now. One day it will be too late.” This thought nagged at me and I began a fifteen-year effort to reconnect with my parents. I took them to lunch almost every weekend, probing them for anecdotes about our life together, and these consistent visits made us closer. My father enjoyed dealing with fan-mail requests and used his real estate expertise to help manage my vacation home.