u/RestfullyCare

I feel like there is a lot of stigma around talking to your aging parents about death, mainly because it can definitely feel scary/stressful for both parties. But I think it's incredibly important to have these conversations with your parents when they are still alive and well, before a crisis happens and you are forced to talk about it, or never get the chance to at all. It makes things so much less complicated when you are actually the one facing those decisions after they are gone.

For anyone who has had the talk with your parents, how did it start? And what advice would you give someone who knows they need to have it but keeps putting it off?

What's something about caring for a dying or aging parent that nobody warned you about?

I work in end of life planning, so naturally I hear a lot of family stories. One thing that keeps coming up is that people expect the emotional weight but not the sheer logistics of it. Paperwork, medical decisions, coordinating with siblings, figuring out finances. All while trying to just be present with the person you're caring for.

Curious what this has looked like for people here. What caught you off guard, either the practical side or the emotional side? Not looking for advice to give, genuinely just want to hear what this has been like for you.

Would you please share your experience of losing your grandparents? How old were you? How close were you? How did your family handle it? What did you learn? How did you grieve? And how do you think about grief now?

I can start. My grandma had cancer and had been in decline for a while. I visited her almost every day after work. It was a sad time but a special time. We got to talk a lot more. She was wise and friendly. I was an ambitious and overconfident 20-something with a Jim & Pam-like work crush I was telling her about, like a soap opera. I remember she said to me, "I wish for you an easy love." I never understood that phrase until I started dating my husband.

She took a turn and was started on a morphine drip with the understanding that she probably wouldn't wake up again, so I sat and shared some very personal updates about my work crush. The next day, she was wide awake and talking. I couldn't believe it. She died a few days later.

My aunt Anne was in the room with me when my grandma died, and there was something magical about it. It felt beautiful. Like the way life is supposed to end. I was thankful for the extra time we got to reconnect. We probably wouldn't have had that opportunity otherwise. More details hold a very vivid space in my brain. Some funny, some scary, some sad, and some happy. They feel so real even though it was 17 years ago. I felt bonded with Anne over that shared experience. I feel honored I got to be there with my grandma. I think that era planted a seed that the end of life could be really, really beautiful.

My other three grandparents were in a slow decline. I saw most of them a few months before they died, but I wasn't with them when they passed. It was sad, but I mostly felt bad for my parents. It was weird to think that once the grandparents are grown, we are the "grown-ups" and our parents are the "old people."

For all of them, we had more of a celebration of life. Either parties at a local club, restaurant, or hotel. Memorial videos. Good memories. Minor family bickering or drama. Feeling nostalgic.