When I heard my dad’s age, I was thrown off guard. My mom is actually a year older than him, so I blurted out, “But that means Mom is…” and he chuckled, responding, “Thirty-nine!” Except, that’s not right, because I reminded him (which honestly surprised him a bit) that I’ll be turning 39 this summer.
I left my hometown for college when my parents were in their mid-40s. Fast forward to my return with my own young family, and they were almost 60. It’s hit me how much I missed during those years. In the last decade, they’ve aged. Now they get senior discounts at amusement parks and movies. Sure, they still lead busy lives as active travelers, but they’re not quite the same.
When my kids are at school and I see the school’s name pop up on my phone, my heart skips a beat until I hear that everything is okay. It’s just part of being a mom—especially to boys. But I’ll admit, any time my phone rings after 8 p.m. and it’s my parents calling, I have the same reaction.
At lunch with my friends, our conversations have shifted from just our kids and travel plans to discussing our parents. We talk about their health—cancer diagnoses, the beginnings of dementia, and our worries about their driving or finances. We even discuss health insurance and estate planning. It’s strange to realize that at 38, I often lose sleep over both my children and my parents. I find myself in this middle space, and I totally understand why my friends and I lean on anti-anxiety meds and therapy; there’s just so much to be anxious about.
Even when I’m with my parents, I don’t feel like a grown-up. I still see them as the adults, even though I am clearly one now. I’ve accomplished so much—graduated from college, built a career, settled down, and started a family—but now it feels like I’m entering a phase marked by loss. My kids are growing up, my body is changing (and not for the better), and my parents are aging more every day. Sometimes, it feels like everything I cherish is slipping away like grains of sand. Is this what they call mid-life? Am I heading for a crisis?
Deep down, I know how blessed I am to have so much love in my life, including my own grandparents. But with these blessings comes the inevitability of loss, and I have so much at stake. As I navigate parenting—often feeling like I’m failing—I also carry a heavy weight of worry. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for my heart to break.
My dad introduced me to a love of music, especially Fleetwood Mac, and now those lyrics echo in my mind:
Oh mirror in the sky,
What is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
I’ve been afraid of changing
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I’m getting older, too.
As my family—both big and small—ages, I feel the ground beneath me shifting in many ways.
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In summary, my father’s birthday serves as a reminder that as he ages, so do I. The process of growing older brings both blessings and losses, and I find myself navigating the complexities of life in this middle space.