I got the call that no one wants to get on the afternoon of December 12, 2024.

A police officer called me at home to inform me my mother had a stroke and my father was confused and frantic with worry.

I tried to get all the necessary information from the policeman and my dad.

Emory University Hospital had called for a well check when they couldn’t reach my father by phone to get approval for an MRI.

My father said my mom fell and hit her head really bad while they were at a cabin in the mountains to look at flowers. In December. He said he took her to the nearest hospital and that she had been transferred. He claimed she was having surgery. This all sounded so odd to me. Why were my elderly parents in the mountains on a vacation so near Christmas and they told no one they were traveling and probably shouldn’t be driving at all?

I knew it was time.

My adult daughter and I drove from Dayton, Ohio, to Atlanta, Georgia. we didn’t know what we were walking into. We brought funeral clothes. We were terrified.

My father was given written directions to Emory University Hospital by the policeman. He also practiced calling me on my mom’s cell phone. I didn’t know what else to do. He wouldn’t use Uber or a taxi or wait for me. The policeman seemed confident that all was well.

What happened after that is stranger than fiction.

It was not well at all.

My dad never made it to Emory. He got very lost. I was trapped in a nightmare, trying to get to Georgia as soon as we could. It took three hours for my husband to coach him back home with multiple hang-ups and call drops. The traffic was “horrendous” and my father was confused and upset. I’m not sure how he managed to get home by himself the previous night.

My daughter and I arrived at my parents’ house late, after 10 PM. We didn’t know what to expect. Would the house be dark and locked? Was my father safe, asleep, or awake? Did he remember we were coming? Would he pull my grandpa’s .38 on me, thinking we were intruders? The policeman told him to put a key for me under the front door mat, but it wasn’t there.

Luckily, the lights were on, the garage door was up, and my dad was just sitting in his chair, watching TV.

He was so visibly relieved to see me and my daughter. I think he knew he was safe and we would take care of him and take him to visit his wife the next day.

We found three messages on the answering machine from my mother over the last two days and two messages from a nurse. He missed all those calls because he had been driving around, lost in Atlanta, the suburbs, almost to the South Carolina border, confused and worried – for two afternoons.

We asked for clarification for what had happened with my mother.

He told us they were sitting in their chairs, watching TV, when she started breathing strangely and looking oddly and wouldn’t answer him. He thought she was just snoozing, but “after four hours, he called 911.” He tried to follow the ambulance to the local ER, but got lost. He doesn’t know how he got home. Then he got lost trying to go to Emory in Atlanta, then lost again getting back home.

We all went to bed and got up the next morning. I called the nurse who had left a message and we spoke to my mother. Everyone was so relieved. I drove us all to visit my mother. Traffic in Atlanta is always stressful, but my father claimed it was “horrendous traffic” if he saw two cars nearby on the road.

My mother didn’t even understand the timeline, had thought she had been in the hospital for weeks.

My mother was very concerned about their monthly bills. She had never set up any payments for autopay, but did every little thing each month on her schedule. I logged into all her accounts and set up autopay. They had always complained they were on a fixed income, never had any money. Their idea of “having no money” is certainly very far from my idea of living paycheck to paycheck my entire adult life.

Physically, my mother is doing amazing. She hardly has any stroke symptoms. After several tests, she was cleared medically.

My mother’s hospital doctor refused to release her to come home unless I had a plan in place for her care. I was told they both should be in assisted living ASAP.

My parents refused and had sworn for years that they would never move out of their house. This humongous house was never my home. They sold the home I remember when I got married and moved away from Georgia. I have no memories of anything meaningful.

My daughter decided to stay to care for my parents. Everyone seemed excited about the plan. We thought maybe finally we could develop a relationship, forgive, and make some nice memories.

I made regular doctor appointments for Friday for both my parents. It was good I got a medical record update.

I learned my father had a memory change diagnosis in 2022. So, I think it was more like 2018 that he started showing symptoms, and I think it’s been bad for both of them since then and they never told me.

I didn’t realize the confusion for both my parents was so far gone. The stroke most likely exacerbated my mother’s mental condition. My father seemed to lose more and more of himself each day, like he didn’t have to hold back anymore.

It was like it went from zero to sixty in three days. They fed off each other and turned into the horrors I remember from a teenager. They were mean and nasty and name-calling and abusive. They screamed at me and threatened me and my daughter.

We didn’t realize how much care they both needed.

I knew I had to take over for my parents’ safety and well-being. I had assumed we could transition them into assisted living over the next year. We soon realized that was impossible.

Of course it got worse.

Because after my father called the police six times in five days, accusing me of all sorts of horrible misdeeds, I had to prove over and over that in spite of having virtually no relationship nor communication with my parents, they had indeed granted me control of their lives for this very instance that these events called for.

Thankfully, I found the binders in the office closet with copies of their wills, living trusts, POAs. My husband and I were joint POA, having been granted this privilege twenty years ago. I had been on their banking accounts for at least two decades.

I very quickly learned that no one would help me. The medical professionals kept informing me I needed neurology referrals. The police informed me they couldn’t do anything for me, my daughter, my husband, my parents unless there was an active murder or suicide taking place. The mental health hotlines couldn’t do anything other than talk to me with very condescending conversation or vet emergency services calls.

It was all so frustrating.

My daughter went back to Ohio and my husband joined me in Georgia.

They both were quite shocked to realize all the horror stories I have told them are all true. I am not just a spoiled only child who thought her parents were strict. My parents are abusive, emotionally immature, narcissistic and selfish.

I started keeping records of every little thing to build a case for assisted living. I didn’t realize how arduous a journey it would be to get them admitted.

I found and hid his guns and ammo in separate spots in the basement. It was sickening how much he had.

I hid all the car keys since it was obvious neither should drive anymore. I was told I needed a neurologist statement to take to DMV to make this official.

I barricaded the office and hid all their medicines so my father couldn’t pop Tylenol like candy.

My father could barely prepare toast or cereal or canned soup. He refused to eat anything I cooked.

She didn’t want to use her walker.

They both refused to bathe.

He started refusing to take his meds, claiming he didn’t know what I was giving him or why. He stopped sleeping and his eye got infected and I could tell he was feeling very bad.

I couldn’t convince my parents they needed more help than I could give them. They claimed they didn’t need any help. They just screamed I was stealing their cars and money. They didn’t want to see me. They wanted me to leave their house. I was trapped in two rooms and couldn’t leave them alone for their safety. My husband didn’t really understand or know what to do. No one was safe.

Two care homes refused to accept them since their dementia symptoms were too much. It took over thirteen days from home assessment to admission to the memory care facility.

Oh, and this entire ordeal happened over the Christmas and New Year holidays.

And no one works weekends either. My four kids spent the holidays alone. It was the longest I have ever been away from them. I was devastated. I was torn from having to do this for my own conscience even though my parents didn’t “deserve” my time or effort.

I had to do everything by phone and online. Their regular doctors refused to sign any paperwork. I had to contact the hospital doctor to sign for my mother. The facility had their contracted NP sign for my father. I had to get a mobile phlebotomist for TB tests and wait almost four days for those results. I had to sneak into their wallets for photos of their IDs and insurance cards.

I had to lie to get my parents in the car to drive them to the facility, telling them the doctor wanted to discuss their lab results. They were extremely anxious on the drive.

My father realized where we were after a few moments and started screaming at me so the nurse had to sneak me out a back door like I was Elvis.

I had to rush to pack up all their bedding and necessaries since I hadn’t been able to plan anything like a normal daughter with normal parents. It took multiple trips back and forth, thirty minutes one way.

My father refused to look at me. My mother turned on her charm for appearances, like always, but demanded items from home or for me to purchase. I told them I was driving back home, but I don’t know if they really understood.

They have enough income and savings and investments to pay for their own care in the memory care home for like fifty years. They have three medical insurances. But it’s frustrating for me to navigate all the bills for their care – the private memory care facility monthly fee, the prescription service monthly fee, the visiting nurse practitioner fees. And the recommended private home care aide for my father since he is still refusing to shower or eat.

We drove home to Ohio on 11 January. It was the first time seeing that Ohio sign on the river bridge that it felt like home to me.

It’s now been almost two months. My mother has called twice and I get texts from the director for my mother’s shopping list of snacks, drinks, underwear.

I am nothing but the keeper of funds now.

It’s both better and also worse than it ever was. I lost parents I never really had in the first place. There is no hope for reconciliation now. My kids never had grandparents.

This was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and it was made that much harder since my parents hate me.

You might also like:

• Adult Daughter
• My Father is a Racist
• Grieving Family Who Are Still Alive

Resources:

• The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You by Elaine N. Aron
• The Highly Sensitive Child: Helping Our Children Thrive When the World Overwhelms Them by Elaine N. Aron
• The Empath’s Survival Guide: Life Strategies for Sensitive People by Judith Orloff
• The Dance of Anger: A Woman’s Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships by Harriet Lerner
• The Dance of Connection: How to Talk to Someone When You’re Mad, Hurt, Scared, Frustrated, Insulted, Betrayed, or Desperate by Harriet Lerner
• Will I Ever Be Good Enough?: Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers by Karyl McBride
• The Search for Significance: Seeing Your True Worth Through God’s Eyes by Robert S. McGee
• Boundaries: When to Say Yes, How to Say No To Take Control of Your Life by Henry Cloud and John Townsend
• Raising An Emotionally Intelligent Child by John Gottman

My parents turned 80 last April.

They were married for about thirteen years before they finally had me.

I am an only child.

I really wish I could write a feel-good memoir about how my mom and I have always been great friends. I wish I could say that I was daddy’s girl. But, alas, that is not the case.

I am a disappointment to my parents because I never could meet their expectations in any way.

My kids don’t know their grandparents.

My Timeline as an Adult Daughter

I remember dreaming as a teenager how there must be some magical moment when I had freedom and trust and could do the cool things I saw others doing with their friends, peers, family members.

That magical moment never happened.

I was told to leave home at 18 when my father found a condom in my purse. They didn’t want me living in their home anymore – even though I was a good person, no drugs or problems. My boyfriend was a good man. We were both on a good trajectory in college and planning our lives and futures. My parents gave me the ultimatum that I could live at home or leave my boyfriend. It was such a difficult decision since I had no savings or any way to live on my own while continuing with college. I only worked part time at a drug store. Edward worked part time at Costco while living at home and attending college too. I often wonder if I could have managed and left, and what my life might have turned out like if I had rebelled then.

I eloped when I was almost 21. Then I was disowned for my first marriage. They mailed me a torn-up copy of their will.

They were angry when I got pregnant and I didn’t get a nice baby shower, just tiny token gifts from my aunt and cousins and co-workers. My parents came to the hospital to see us, but they got very upset and jealous that my first husband’s parents were there, and my mother-in-law was helping me, so they left in a huff. My mother arrived at my home the next week and I had to make her dinner while exhausted.

They weren’t much help with my first child and constantly complained about her, but they were relieved when I got divorced.

My parents adore adore my current husband.

The best thing I did was leave Georgia so it put some distance between my parents and me. I literally went through withdrawal for several years from all the abusive expectations and I didn’t know how to be alone or how to be an adult or wife or mother.

Very unfortunately, my husband’s parents both passed the first year we were married, so they never even got to meet their son’s kids. His mother did throw me a lovely baby shower and gifted us a lot of stuff that last Christmas.

My parents traveled to Texas for the births of my middle two kids. They stayed in a hotel. They were no help and I was more stressed out knowing I had to entertain them and keep peace. I was very sick after my second child was born and my father was just furious. After a Caesarean section birth of my third child, they wanted to go out to dinner, so I had to drag myself and a newborn with my toddler and young child to a restaurant or have no dinner. My husband was lost during all these games and didn’t know what to say or do.

My mother traveled to Hawaii for the birth of my last child, but my father couldn’t be bothered. She stayed in a hotel on Pearl Harbor naval base. They had both just come out for Christmas the previous year and it was too much for him to sit in an airplane from Georgia to Hawaii again. My mother was unkind to my three kids and I couldn’t really trust her or rely on her to help at all. She accused them of stealing her bracelet! It had fallen off the nightstand. My husband didn’t know any of this. It was very stressful when I should have been enjoying my newborn son.

During my husband’s first deployment in 2011, my parents decided that was a great time to visit me and the kids in Utah. They chose to come in May – not in March for my birthday, not the first week in April for their birthdays or my son’s first birthday, not around my third child’s birthday or on Mother’s Day, but just a random time in mid-May. They refused to stay at my house (even though I offered them my bed) and instead opted for a nearby hotel. They sauntered over midday, about lunchtime and naptime for my son. It disrupted our whole schedule and they kept telling my kids to go away and play outside or in the basement. I was super stressed and confused. My mom made my second child cry about something irrelevant and then lied about it. They didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything except sit on my sofa and they were very upset my TV was in the basement because they didn’t want to walk down a flight of stairs. Then, they got really mad and left early and I later received an actual letter in the mail – hate mail! – outlining everything that’s wrong about me, my children, and my lack of good mothering skills. Also, that I should hit my children to make them never cry and behave perfectly.

We didn’t see my parents again until May 2014.

Before we PCSed to Germany, I felt we needed to visit my parents…in case something happened while we were on another continent for three years.

It was a very stressful couple weeks.

My kids were banished to other rooms, constantly told to be quiet. The wildflowers they picked for their only grandmother were thrown away. We didn’t go anywhere except to the veteran’s park in their town.

I was told not to cook anymore since it was too messy, made too many dishes, was more food than they were used to having.

My father promised my son to take him to his barber to get haircuts, but the day arrived and my father took off on his own for the entire day and no one knew where he was. My son was devastated.

My father was also going to take my eldest child on a special trip to Andersonville since we had been studying the Civil War. He told her she didn’t deserve the trip with her bad attitude.

They were apprehensive when we went to Stone Mountain Park and Stately Oaks. They didn’t feel comfortable with us borrowing one of their three SUVs to go to the Atlanta aquarium. But they didn’t want to go anywhere with us.

Then, we visited them again June 2017, upon our return to the States, and it was again miserable.

My parents had promised my eldest their 2010 VW Beetle and money to help pay for college, but they swore they never promised any college money and told us all she didn’t deserve the car. They then handed over the car last minute, but made it clear they didn’t want to and that it shouldn’t go to her.

We left earlier than we had planned.

So, I haven’t even seen my parents since 2018.

They drove up to Ohio from Georgia, to surprise my husband for his promotion in February 2018.

They then drove up again for Christmas 2018 while he was deployed, but vowed they couldn’t travel anymore after that.

It was a little bit easier on my own turf with older kids who have learned to stay away from their grandparents and monitor their moods, which is sad.

I invited my parents a few times – to be told they couldn’t make it. It’s a lot more difficult for us to travel with four busy kids and two cats. My parents are retired, wealthy, no responsibilities. They could go anywhere, anytime…they do own three SUVs!

My father has had at least two tantrums when he gave me the silent treatment the last couple years – no phone calls, no emails, nothing. My mother is almost amused by this instead of disturbed. She feels superior, I guess.

We’re punished by no birthday cards – no gifts, no money, no phone calls. It’s like we’re erased, forgotten. How do I explain this to my kids?

My mom broke her sternum in a random fall and I didn’t find out for days.

My father fell and bruised his rib over the July 4th weekend and I didn’t find out until later that week.

My mom was rushed by ambulance to the hospital due to severe back pain and she had to demand he call us. She has a broken vertebra. It’s been a long time healing and she can’t drive, can barely walk with a walker. How about those three SUVs now?

I called them on Thanksgiving and that wasn’t the most pleasant conversation when I risked asking what their plans are for their future. They got mad that I brought up the forbidden questions and didn’t talk to me for two more weeks. My mother is never great with communication and my father emails me weather and football reports every few days like everything is just fine.

It’s hard being their daughter.

My children don’t have grandparents.

We’re jealous when we see families with grandparents. Most people assume this is the norm, and I’m sure it is – families who live nearby and enjoy each other, rooting for victories and sorrow with mistakes. We don’t have any family. I keep trying. It’s like banging my head into a brick wall.

I long for more. I yearn for my kids to launch into the world and fly back frequently to the nest. I wait with open arms because of the bitter memories I harbor of my own parents. I don’t want my kids to ever feel unwanted or unloved.

It’s a deep pain. It’s hard to swallow, even as an adult, that a parent simply isn’t interested in their child and never has been. Some parents will only approve of their children as long as the children follow the narrative those parents have chosen for them instead or embracing honoring who each child IS as determined by the children themselves!

The Wellness Point

Well Said:

• Dear Uninvolved Family, I’m Sad You Don’t Care Enough to Know Us
• I’m Done Trying To Include Uninvolved Family

Resources:

• Mothers Who Can’t Love: A Healing Guide for Daughters by Susan Forward
• Difficult Mothers, Adult Daughters: A Guide For Separation, Liberation & Inspiration by Karen C.L. Anderson
• I Hate You – Don’t Leave Me: Understanding the Borderline Personality by Jerold J. Kreisman
• Recovering from Narcissistic Mothers: A Daughter’s Guide by Brenda Stephens
• Will I Ever Be Good Enough?: Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers by Karyl McBride
• Becoming the Narcissist’s Nightmare: How to Devalue and Discard the Narcissist While Supplying Yourself by Shahida Araby
• Recovering from Emotionally Immature Parents: Practical Tools to Establish Boundaries and Reclaim Your Emotional Autonomy by Lindsay C. Gibson
• Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents: How to Heal from Distant, Rejecting, or Self-Involved Parents by Lindsay C. Gibson
• When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times by Pema Chodron
• Parenting Forward: How to Raise Children with Justice, Mercy, and Kindness by Cindy Wang Brandt
• The Empath’s Survival Guide: Life Strategies for Sensitive People by Judith Orloff
• The Highly Sensitive Person: How to Thrive When the World Overwhelms You by Elaine N. Aron
• The Highly Sensitive Child: Helping Our Children Thrive When The World Overwhelms Them by Elaine N. Aron
• The Dance of Anger: A Woman’s Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationships by Harriet Lerner
• The Dance of Connection: How to Talk to Someone When You’re Mad, Hurt, Scared, Frustrated, Insulted, Betrayed, or Desperate by Harriet Lerner

You might also like:

• Grieving Family Who Are Still Alive
• Raised Better
• I am not insignificant
• Ruined
• Parenting Young Adults
• My Father is a Racist
• What Respectful Parenting Looks Like
• Breaking the Cycle
• Disciplining without Control

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