Typically my blogs are born out of a theme I’m seeing with clients or from my own experience. This one is straight out of my life! There is a season of life that no one prepares you for.
It's the season where you're no longer raising little children who need you every minute, yet you're not fully free either. Instead, you find yourself standing in the middle…watching your parents become more dependent just as your own children are becoming beautifully independent.
It's a really strange place to live.
One moment you're helping your daughter move into her first apartment, celebrating your son's new career, or laughing with friends over dinner. The next, you're scheduling doctor's appointments, coordinating caregivers, managing medications, dealing with the VA for your Vietnam Veteran dad, worrying about falls, or wondering if your parents are safe through the night.
It’s a very sticky place…your heart is living in two generations at once. And if you're anything like me, guilt becomes a very unwelcome companion.
So Much Shoulding on Yourself…"I Should Be Doing More."
It whispers constantly.
I should visit more.
I should call again today.
I shouldn't leave town.
I shouldn't enjoy myself when they're struggling.
I should be able to fix this.
No matter how much you do, it rarely feels like enough. The hardest part is that love has no finish line.
When someone you love is declining, there isn't a checklist you complete that finally says, "You've done enough." Because if love alone could heal Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, cancer, frailty, or aging itself...our parents would all be healthy. But love cannot stop time. It can only accompany someone through it.
Grieving Someone Who Is Still Here
One of the most confusing parts of caring for aging parents is that grief doesn't wait for death. It’s complex…you grieve every little loss along the way and then you mix that with anticipatory grief.
The parent who always had the answers now seems so confused.
The dad who taught you to ride a bike now needs help standing up.
The parent who took care of everyone now struggles to take care of themself.
They're still here.
It's a grief without a funeral…a heartbreak without an ending.
People don't always recognize it because there hasn't been a loss that others can see. Some say “you’re lucky they are still here” and you know you are…and you are still grieving…you hold grief and gratitude at the same time.
Meanwhile...Life Keeps Calling You Forward
At the exact same time your heart is breaking, life keeps asking you to live.
Your adult children still want your encouragement.
Friends invite you to dinner.
Vacations are planned.
Your partner still wants connection.
Your career still matters.
Your body deserves care.
Your health deserves attention.
There are sunsets to watch.
Pools to float in.
Dogs to walk.
Walks with friends.
Birthdays to celebrate.
Memories still waiting to be made.
And somehow, enjoying those moments can make you feel guilty, as though joy is somehow disloyal to the people who are suffering…but it isn't.
Your Parents Didn't Spend Their Lives Raising You So You Would Stop Living Yours
This realization tremendously changed something inside me. Most parents spend decades hoping their children will build beautiful lives. They wanted us to find love. To laugh. To travel. To make friends. To build meaningful work. To create families. To experience joy.
Why would they want all of that to disappear because they became ill? They wouldn't!
The guilt tells us that loving our parents means putting our lives on pause. Love tells us something different.
Love says:
"I can be devoted without disappearing."
"I can show up without sacrificing every part of myself."
"I can grieve while still experiencing joy."
These things are not opposites.
They exist together.
The Balance Isn't Fifty-Fifty
Many of us spend years trying to find the perfect balance. But balance doesn't mean giving equal time and energy to every part of life.
Sometimes your parents need more.
Sometimes your children do.
Sometimes your relationship needs attention.
Sometimes your own nervous system is quietly begging for rest.
Balance isn't measured by hours. It's measured by intention. By asking yourself:
"Am I showing up with love where I'm needed today, while also protecting the parts of me that allow me to keep showing up tomorrow?" Because caregiver burnout doesn't help anyone. Exhaustion isn't proof of love. Sacrifice without replenishment eventually leaves everyone with less.
Permission to Live
If you're in this season, I see you and hope you hear this:
You are allowed to laugh.
You are allowed to go on vacation.
You are allowed to exercise.
You are allowed to have dinner with friends.
You are allowed to celebrate your children.
You are allowed to enjoy your relationships.
You are allowed to float in a pool on a summer afternoon.
You are allowed to create beautiful memories while your heart is also carrying grief.
Joy and sorrow are not enemies. They are companions. Both can exist in the same day. Sometimes in the same hour.
Dynamics With Sibling Relationships
Caring for aging parents doesn't just change our relationship with them...it often changes our relationships with our siblings. Sometimes it brings us closer. Other times, it exposes old family roles and creates new tensions. One sibling may become the primary caregiver, another may help financially, and another may live too far away to help as much as they'd like. It's easy to compare, keep score, or feel resentment when everyone's contributions look different. But beneath those differences is usually the same thing: love, grief, fear, and the wish that our parents weren't facing this chapter.
I've learned that there is rarely a perfect, fair, or equal way to care for aging parents. Every sibling has different strengths, different limitations, different stages of life, different families, different finances, different emotional capacities, and different relationships with their parents. Fair doesn't always mean equal. It means each person contributing in the ways they genuinely can while respecting that no one can carry this season alone. If you're finding yourself frustrated with a sibling, pause long enough to wonder what they might also be carrying. And if you're the sibling carrying the greatest load, remember that asking for help isn't weakness...it's an invitation for others to love your parents alongside you.
At the end of the day, we're all grieving the same people...we're just carrying that grief in different ways.
And Then There's the Quiet Reality of Your Own Life
As if caring for aging parents and launching adult children weren't enough, this season often brings another layer of heartbreak.
Friends receive devastating cancer diagnoses.
Someone your own age dies unexpectedly.
A friend shares they have MS, Parkinson's disease, or another life-changing illness.
You find yourself attending more funerals than weddings, and for the first time, you're reminded that aging isn't happening only to your parents...it's happening all around you.
At the same time, you may be navigating your own health concerns, scheduling more medical appointments, noticing your body changing, or becoming more aware of your own mortality. It's a season that can feel incredibly heavy because you're holding so much at once. You're grieving your parents' losses, supporting friends through theirs, celebrating your children's milestones, and trying to care for your own body, spirit, and mind...all while life continues to move forward.
Perhaps that's why this stage of life feels so complex. It asks us to hold gratitude and grief, hope and fear, joy and heartbreak all at the same time.
And maybe that's also the gift hidden within it. The fragility of life has a way of sharpening what matters most. We stop waiting for the "right time." We take the trip. We strengthen our bodies. We prioritize our health. We spend the afternoon laughing with friends, floating in the pool, taking a walk with someone we love, or simply soaking in an ordinary moment we might have rushed past before. Not because we ignore life's uncertainty, but because we finally understand it.
Maybe this season isn't just about learning how to let go. Maybe it's also about learning how to live more fully than ever before.
To Everyone Standing in the Middle
If no one has told you lately...You're probably doing more than you realize. Your parents know your love, even if they can't always express it. Your children are watching how you care for another generation with compassion. And one day, they'll remember not only how you loved your parents...but how you also taught them that even in the hardest seasons, life is still meant to be lived and loved. You still get to live the life you love!
So take the walk.
Go for the kayak.
Say yes to the dinner invitation.
Laugh with your friends.
Go play pickleball.
Celebrate your children.
Visit your parents.
Make them a meal.
Hold their hand.
Cry when you need to.
Then come back home and keep living. Because the goal isn't to choose between honoring your parents and honoring your own life. The goal is to hold both with open hands. That may be one of the hardest things we'll ever do.
If you find yourself grieving before they're gone, grieving while they're here, or grieving after they've left, know that none of it means you loved them too much or didn't prepare enough.
It simply means you were loved deeply and loved deeply.
As heartbreaking as this season can be, I also recognize what a privilege it is to grieve someone who loved me so well. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have parents they will miss this deeply. Many people grieve the relationship they never had, the love they longed for, or the parents they needed but never received. If you are one of these people, I also see you and validate your complex grief...it makes sense, and I hope you get to have meaning-making and be the parent you always deserved.
For those of us who were blessed with parents whose love shaped us and whose love will continue for generations to come, this heartbreak is the price of that gift. It hurts because it was incredible. It hurts because we were loved so greatly.
And while I would never choose this pain, I would choose my parents…every single time.
If you find yourself standing in the middle…in between caring for aging parents, supporting your adult children, and trying to remember that your own life matters too…please know you don't have to carry it alone...please reach out. I have the privilege of supporting middlegrounders like you every day as they navigate this complex season of life with compassion, grace, balance, and hope.
Whether we meet in person at my Bethesda, MD, office or through Telehealth, my goal is to help you find steadier ground to honor your parents, cherish your family, care for yourself without guilt, and discover that it is possible to grieve deeply while still living fully.