Hope in the Eighties (life years, not decades)

 I’m a day or two late for this post, but it’s a very important one. It is a post of hope, a post of gratitude, and a post of congratulations.

Last August, my parents left NY. They sold the house where they had raised four daughters, four grandchildren, and lots of cats and dogs. They left a home packed with memories and objects and comfort and moved across two rivers to a continuing care community near me. They downsized from a family Tudor to a cozy apartment. They left friends and familiarity because they knew it was time…but that doesn’t mean it was easy.

In the course of the past year, they have kept up with old friends (thanks to those who have visited, zoomed, made time for us on our visits, and otherwise supported this transition.) They have made new friends, too: deep, precious, honest friendships. “Make new friends, but keep the old…”: both are silver (haired), both are gold.

Mom has done things she never imagined: leased a car on her own, transfered bank accounts, navigated the medical world, switched licenses, joined a book club, performed in a chorus….. Dad keeps singing “Yes, I remember it well”, even though at times he does not. They’ve both enjoyed local theatre and great conversation groups at Laurel Circle.

It isn’t easy to leave home— not at any age! But my parents took that risk, along with its many necessary losses. And over the past year, they have found many unexpected gains.