My father has always been a constant in my life. It wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies. Our family was far from picture-perfect, but he was mine. Through childhood chaos, my first jobs, failed marriages, motherhood, and now this stage of life, he has been one of the few steady forces I could hold onto. At almost 85, as I sit by his side and face the reality that his life is winding down, I find myself living daily with the up and down roller coaster of what is in his best interest. No child likes to witness the aging of their own parents. Being a daughter, we often tend to lean towards taking care of our daddies as we were born to be “Daddy’s little girls” (even at 59). It would be nice if this part of the parent-child relationship were easy, but quite frankly, it’s a rocky road.  As a parent loses their ability in a physical and/or mental state due to age, their independence is threatened. This can cause tension as many aging parents blame their children for their loss of independence, instead of their circumstances.  

My dad has lived with me for the past three and a half years, and we’ve become very close. I decided to have him move in after spending a year traveling back and forth between Tennessee and Florida, where he and my stepmother were living. During that time, I moved them twice in just five months – first from their home of more than 40 years, which required an enormous amount of sorting and purging. Neither of them was able to handle the workload on their own, and my stepmother’s health was declining, requiring frequent doctor visits and care. Eventually, it became clear that I couldn’t keep up the travel schedule or provide the support they needed without moving them to my home in Tennessee.

Originally, the plan was for my parents to move into a house just a few doors down from mine. But over time, their needs became constant – from everyday challenges like bumping into a doorframe and tearing fragile skin, to ensuring proper nutrition, companionship, and help with errands. My stepmother passed away in July 2024, a loss that has left my dad profoundly lonely and grieving the love of his life after so many decades together.

Caring for him has been both one of the greatest honors of my life and one of the heaviest responsibilities. For anyone walking this same path, I want to offer a bit of comfort and share some of the lessons I’ve learned along the way, because the truth is, caring for an aging parent isn’t only about them. It changes us, too.

The Weight of History

Growing up, my dad was often busy climbing the professional ladder. His career demanded much of his time and energy. From the outside, we looked like the perfect family, but behind closed doors, there was a lot of chaos. My mother struggled with instability and emotional outbursts, and from a young age, I found myself stepping into the role of caretaker for my sisters.

Through it all, my dad was imperfect, distracted, and sometimes distant, but he showed up the best way he knew how, balancing the heavy responsibility of providing for us financially. The truth is, most of us can relate to that in some way, no matter what role we’ve played in our own families.

I can still remember being twelve years old, cooking meals for my family while my parents fought upstairs. Or the day he told me, with tears in his eyes, that he and my mother were divorcing. For all his shortcomings, my dad loved and cared for me and my sisters, and that love gave me the strength to build a life for myself when statistics said I would fail.

Now the roles are reversed in so many ways.  I do my best in holding things together for him to live the remaining years in dignity in his failing health and age.  This time, I’m not twelve. I’m 59, and I’m helping my father face the hardest chapter of his life.

The Emotional Toll of Caregiving

Being a caregiver to a parent is complicated. On one hand, it feels like sacred work: returning love to the person who once loved and provided for you. On the other hand, it can be exhausting, isolating and heartbreaking.

The National Institute on Aging notes that caregivers are at higher risk for anxiety, depression and burnout. I’ve felt all of that. Some days I meditate, journal or use positive self-talk to remind myself that self-care isn’t selfish, it’s survival. Other days, I collapse into bed, wondering how much longer I can carry the weight.

If you’re walking this road, please hear this: you are not alone, and you are not failing. It’s okay to grieve the gradual loss of your parents while also feeling overwhelmed by the daily grind of caregiving. Both truths can exist at the same time.

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Practical Steps That Help

Through trial and error, and through conversations with healthcare professionals and other caregivers, here are a few things I’ve learned that might help:

• Seek support early. Whether it’s from family, community resources, or caregiver support groups, you don’t have to do this alone. Organizations like AARP’s Caregiving Resource Center offer helpful tools.
• Prioritize your own health. Even 10 minutes of guided meditation, a walk outside or a sleep meditation before bed can restore balance and calm.
• Know the signs of burnout. Constant exhaustion, irritability, or neglecting your own needs are warning signals. (Mayo Clinic offers a useful checklist on caregiver stress.)
• Prepare for tough decisions. Nursing homes, assisted living or hospice aren’t signs of giving up. They are sometimes the most loving choice you can make – for them and for yourself.

As a life coach, I’ve worked with many people who struggle with similar personal growth goals:  how to care for others while not losing themselves. One of the most powerful reminders I return to again and again is this: you are enough.

Finding Peace in the Process

I still hear my father’s voice in my head, reminding me of statistics or questioning my choices. At times, his words land harder than he probably intends. It sets off triggers I thought had been remediated, but were, instead, quieted over years of self-care.  Yet even with those challenges, I know his love has always been there. His presence in my life – imperfect, complex, and enduring – has shaped so much of who I am today.

And as I sit with him now, I remind myself of a truth I want to leave with you: You are enough. You are enough as a daughter, as a son, as a caregiver. You are enough even on the days when you feel like you’re drowning.

Caring for an aging parent is one of the hardest journeys we’ll ever walk, but it is also one of the most deeply human. It stretches us, breaks us, and somehow, if we let it, it can also heal parts of us we didn’t know were still broken.

To anyone walking this road, you’re not alone. And while there are no perfect answers, there is love. Sometimes, that has to be enough.