Ive been thinking a lot about how we look after our elders these days. My older brother, James, flew back from the United States this week.
My elder brother only visits us on rare occasions, I told my diary. Hes been living in America with his wife for over ten years and hardly ever comes home. This was only his third trip since he moved abroad. He arrived bearing a suitcase full of stylish clothes and a handful of imported goodies for Mum and me. When James first left for the States, I took on most of the chores for Mum and Dad. Now I realise I could have handled things differently, and I regret not seeing it sooner.
His arrival lifted Mums spirits instantly. All her aches seemed to melt away as she hurried to bake treats for her son. Dad was thrilled that his son and daughterinlaw were staying with them. While James and his wife, Claire, were in the house, the parents were constantly on the move, trying to figure out the best way to keep everyone happy and fed. Dad loved playing with his British grandchildren, and Mum was in the kitchen whipping up scones and roast dinner for Claire.
For two whole weeks the house buzzed with a festive air. Claire spent her days and evenings either in the kitchen or sitting in front of the telly with a cup of tea, never offering to lend a hand or tidy up after herself. When the couple finally left, Dad handed them an envelope with a few pounds. James chuckled, What am I supposed to do with a few quid back in the States? but he didnt refuse the money.
That night, after the guests had gone, Mums blood pressure spiked again. Claire had to make her another cup of tea and spend the rest of the evening looking after her health. Dad asked me to chop some firewood; he couldnt manage it himself, even though just the day before hed boasted about his skill with the axe. I watched Claire being pulled in a hundred directionscooking, caring for Mum, and cleaning up. It was exhausting.
What does life with parents look like for us? Claire and I have been married for almost nine years, and throughout that time weve been living in my parents house. Theyve retired and now focus on looking after their own wellbeing: they dont overwork themselves, they avoid unnecessary trips to the shop or out into the garden. All the household responsibilities have fallen to Claire and me. Together weve renovated every room, replaced the windows, the roof, the fence paying for everything out of our own pockets.
James visits hardly ever. When he does, he seems to transform, becoming lively, alert and cheerful, as if nothing could touch him.
We decided to move back in with my parents so we could lend a hand whenever they needed it. I now see that my earlier choices were misguided, but weve poured so much money and energy into the house that walking away feels wasteful. My parents hardly acknowledge the daily effort Claire and I put in; they praise James to friends and relatives, while they label us failures for still living under their roof. Im not sure what to do next.
