Caring Today Blog

TELLING THE KIDS

Posted by Debbie on: December 10th, 2008

In the latest post of My So-Called (Caregiver) Life, Debbie settles her dad in at home and then forges ahead with another difficult task which concerns her three children—Michael, Jennifer and Buster.

One of the first things that we had to do was tell the kids how ill Grandpa was.

Of our three children, two were home and one was away at college in Atlanta, GA. Our two boys at home knew immediately that the situation did not look good.  They’ve been part-time caregivers and around caregivers so much that they too have developed that sixth sense—that “Houston, we have aproblem” feeling. 

When we returned from the hospital, we settled Dad in his room and staggered into the living room. I think we looked a little like the walking wounded. The boys clustered around firing questions, so we all sat down and talked about life and death and when it’s time to let go. A heavy subject for our 12-year-old Michael but he was in there swinging to the best of his ability. I told the boys I would call the school, let the teachers know we were staying close to the house and ask for their understanding and patience.

But what should we do about our daughter, Jennifer, in Georgia? She’s working as an engineer in a co-op program this semester and will be back in classes in January. Do I call her and bring her home ASAP? Do I not call? 

I decided to wait and letthe answer find me. Sometimes you have to wait for the answer, not search forit.

The answer came the next day and began with my calling her after work. We talked at length about her day—and then I gave her the details. She took it all in and we talked about her coming home. Jennifer decided not to come home and that is okay. I told her I agreed and that she should only come home for her, not for Grandpa. So we cried, and talked some more. We laughed and then hung up.

Each of my children is so different and has responded so differently. Jennifer: calm, cool, take in the facts, assess the situation and move ahead.  Buster: get the situation and go back to his room. (Buster may be the one that shows the indifferent face, the life-goes-on façade, but hetakes it in deeply.) Michael, my 12-year-old, became my caregiver. He hugged me, told me he loved me and went to his room for a good cry. 

Over the next 10 days we spent a lot of time hugging, crying, laughing, telling stories and cementing this period of time in our lives. We were in it together and we became almost a chain, one dependent on the other, only as strong as the weakest link.

They say steel forged in fire is the toughest and the finest. It was time to forge as a family.