What My 100-Year-Old Father Taught Me About Talking to Aging Parents

Photo by Andrew Southam

"You want them to help you but you also want to feel like you matter. You seldom want them to just take over. I'm 100 and still have all my marbles and I still want to be considered when decisions are being made..."

For Father's Day I thought I'd ask my father what it felt like to be a father at 100 years old. His first reply was "It's like herding cats!" When asked what he meant by that he then surprised me by describing the same feelings my husband and I were having now that our son was out of college and living at home. "Children get older and they pull away, they have other commitments and you can no longer tell them what to do."

The idea that the feeling stays with you to his age surprised me. Just as childhood trauma can stay with you throughout your life, so can earlier life experiences. He continued: "It's a line that moves, the tension between a parent and a child. It keeps evolving and changing over time and you have to get used to the new rules each time. The idea that you are the head of the family and all the members should fall in line and salute you has a cutoff — in some families it's early, some later, usually it's when a child gets married."

"Even though you know intellectually that's how things should be, that kids need to have their own lives and autonomy, it still hurts when they don't listen to you, especially when you're just trying to help. I have lived a long time, followed a good moral compass, and it feels like my wisdom and knowledge of how the world works is being dismissed. You know in your head that your words have less and less bearing but it's still hurtful and that's where the misunderstandings come from."

I then asked him what it was like to have his children telling him what to do. His answer taught me alot about talking to aging parents. "You want them to help you but you also want to feel like you matter. You seldom want them to just take over. I'm 100 and still have all my marbles and I still want to be considered when decisions are being made. I want to matter. Don't decide about me without including me." A good friend of his put it even more plainly: "I feel like a package being picked up and delivered."

For older people, feeling like they no longer matter can lead to depression. Many have lived full, productive lives — held positions of authority, supported families, earned real respect in their communities — and are now being talked down to, told how cute they are, treated like children. What younger people often don't understand is that the person answering you doesn't think of themselves the way you see them. You see someone who is 80, 90, or in my father's case, 100. But the person looking back at you may still feel 30, 40, or 50. There is a disconnect that needs to be understood. The body changes. The inner sense of self often doesn't. So when someone says "Grandpa, you're so cute" to a man who spent his life as a provider, a leader, someone others looked to — that's not a compliment. It's a kind of erasure.

A few things worth keeping in mind when talking to older adults:

• Ask, don't assume. Before making decisions that affect them, ask what they think. Even a simple "What would you like to do?" can make the difference between someone feeling included and someone feeling managed.

  
  

• Talk to them, not about them. It's easy to fall into the habit of discussing an older person's needs with other family members while they're in the room. They notice. Include them in the conversation directly.

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• Match their register, not their age. If your father was the kind of man who talked about the news, politics, ideas — keep talking to him that way. Don't dumb it down just because he needs help with his medications.

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• Skip the cuteness. Complimenting an older person on how adorable they are usually says more about our discomfort with aging than it does about them. Lead with curiosity instead. Ask about their life. Their opinions. What they're still thinking about.

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• Remember that help can feel like a takeover. Offering assistance is an act of love. But there's a difference between "Can I help you with that?" and just stepping in and doing it. The first preserves dignity. The second, even when well-meaning, can quietly take it away.

Written by Tracy Sondern, LMFT. In-person in Los Feliz, Los Angeles and online throughout California.