who will be there when you’re old

Without Kids, Will You Spend Your Holidays Alone?

Sue Fagalde Lick alone in old age, Childless holidays, childless in old age, feeling left out on the holidays, growing old without children, who will be there when you're old , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dear friends,

Today, I’m sharing a revised version of a post I wrote for my “Can I Do It Alone?” Substack on Easter. I don’t dwell on childlessness there, but the sad truth is that if you don’t have kids, you may wind up alone in old age.

I’m watching “American Idol” on TV and crying. All those weepy moms in the audience remind me that I will never have a child to love and support like that.

It’s Easter. I have been trying hard to be Zen about not having a family to spend the holiday with, but now the reality is sinking in.

This afternoon, a niece posted a photo of my sister-in-law surrounded by her grandchildren in front of a homemade birthday cake. They had gathered for a combined Easter/birthday celebration. The kids didn’t have to be reminded and cajoled to do something for their mother. They just did it. I am happy for her. She works hard taking care of those kids and my brother.

On my last birthday, which was better than average, I went to my weekly open mic, where my fellow musicians sang to me and made me feel loved. At church, having read my posts about my upcoming birthday, our videographer brought me flowers. My neighbors invited me over for supper. It was a little uncomfortable because there were four of them and one of me. But it was kind of them, and we had fun.

I couldn’t help thinking people felt sorry for me because I was alone. Hell, I felt sorry for me.

If I didn’t say a word, who would think to do anything? And when was the last time someone baked a cake for me?

Back to the moms in the “American Idol” audience. I started wondering what my kids would be like. Would I have a pretty daughter like my niece or a tall son who would adore me and take care of me? Would they add in-laws and grandchildren so my family could be as big as my brother’s? Would I never spend a birthday or holiday alone? Would I bake cakes for their birthdays?

Excuse me while I fetch some Kleenex.

Yes, I know. I could have children who would not show up for me. Several of my parent friends spent the holiday alone because their kids were busy, lived far away, or they weren’t getting along. Some people’s children have died; surely that pain is worse than anything we might feel about never having them. Babies don’t come with guarantees.

I had three stepchildren. When my husband died, they slipped away. What little I know about them these days is posted on Facebook. What if I had tried harder to keep in touch, to be part of their lives? Would they have let me? I don’t know. I didn’t know how to be a mom, especially when my husband wasn’t enthusiastic about being a dad, but I think I blew it.

By choosing Fred, I chose a life without children of my own. He was a wonderful husband. We were so in love. Who knew he’d have early-onset Alzheimer’s and die at the age I am now? I thought he would be with me for at least another ten years.

At the top of my to-do pile is my health care advanced directive form, which specifies what I want done in a medical emergency if I can’t speak for myself. It has spaces to list the people who will speak for me. It has been on that pile for months. Besides my brother, who lives 700 miles away, I still don’t know who to choose as my alternate representative. If I had children, I’d put their names down and expect them to do it.

Who else would care enough to hang around a hospital making life and death decisions for me? I have friends, but do I have the right to put that kind of responsibility on them? Should I recruit one of my cousins, the cousins I only see at funerals? What if I put out a call for volunteers? Would anyone respond? I’m stuck.

I will figure it out. I will find someone, even if I have to pay a professional. I just learned there are “nurse advocates” who will step in if you don’t have family to speak for you. But I’m jealous of those people who can call on their grown children for everything from Easter parties to rides to the doctor to managing their affairs when they can’t do it anymore.

When a couple has children, it starts with one baby but grows into a family, with young ones to replace the older ones who pass on to the next life. If you give that up for the love of one man or woman and they leave or die, you will be alone. On Easter. Christmas. Your birthday. The anniversary of your husband’s death. The day you win a prize. The day the doctor says you have cancer.

Many people happily choose not to have children and are confident they can deal with their childfree future. Others are physically unable to get pregnant or carry a pregnancy to term, and they will feel the loss all their lives.

For those of us who are childless by marriage, who have choices, we need to think very hard before we put all our eggs in the no-kids basket. If your partner is able but unwilling, talk to them about what will happen if they are gone, and you’re left alone. If they really love you, maybe they’ll change their minds.

I know this is a weird post, but it’s what I’m thinking about this week.

How was your Easter? Was not having children an issue for you? Have you thought about what will happen when you’re older?

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At my “Can I Do It Alone?” Substack, we talk about all sorts of things related to living alone. Come join us at https://suelick.substack.com.

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Being childless does not mean you’ll end up alone

Sue Fagalde Lick childless and alone, childless in old age, taking care of aging parents, who will be there when you're old

When you reach a certain age, your parents get old and need help. Unless they die young, it’s going to happen. When my mother was dying in 2002, she had my father. I traveled back and forth from Oregon to San Jose to help, and I was at her side with Dad when she died. My brother and I helped plan her funeral, but Dad was the main caregiver.

For 11 years, my father has lived alone. He has two kids, but my brother lives three hours away, near Yosemite, and I’m 13 hours away on the Oregon coast. When Dad broke his wrist, I didn’t even know about it until after his surgery was over. He took care of himself afterwards. Ditto for his cataract surgery and getting a Pacemaker to keep his heart beating. He’s a strong and independent man. But now his heart is failing, and I have dropped everything to help him. He may or may not have open heart surgery soon. Right now, he’s pretty good sitting down, but if he does anything, even walking across the yard, he turns white and struggles for breath. He needs help, so I’m here. My brother comes on weekends. We’ll be here for whatever happens.

But you and I, dear reader, don’t have children. Who will help when our health fails? Yes, we have all heard that people who do have kids can’t count on them. We know about old people in nursing homes whose children never come around, but in most families, the children are there to help their parents.

So what do we do? Looking at a future alone can be frightening. My stepchildren won’t be around if I go to the hospital or get too weak to buy my own groceries and wash my own clothes. If I have money, I can hire someone to help, but that’s not the same.

Perhaps there are clues in what’s happening now. While I’m away, my friends in Oregon are taking care of things up there. Jo is tending my dog. Mary Lee and Jessie are filling in for me with music at church. Pat, who is my emergency contact with my doctors, is collecting my mail and sending the bills and other important things to me. She’s the one who drove me to the hospital and sat with me before my cataract surgery and the one who drove me to Albany in the dark when my husband died. Other friends brought food, cleaned my house and made sure I wasn’t alone.

You can’t count on children, but you can count on friends, as well as siblings, cousins and other relatives. And your spouse, of course, if you have one. If you feel like no one will be around in a crisis, make some connections now, and agree to be there for each other when things get tough.

It might be nice to have children to take care of us, but there’s a world of other people to turn to if we just look around.

What do you think? Do you worry about ending up alone with no one to help? I look forward to your comments

NOTE: I don’t have an Internet connection at my Dad’s house, so I may not be able to approve your comments until I can steal away to a coffee shop or wherever I can find Wi-Fi, but I will get to them, and I look forward to reading what you have to say.