Friends in Old Age
One of the most popular “gotchas” people with children try to corner the childfree with is, “But who will take care of you when you’re old?” A few days ago I lost a dear friend who was ninety-seven years old and childfree. Her last years and days were an illumination of why children aren’t necessary for a happy, cared-for old age.
My friend Libby was born in July of 1911, the second-oldest of four children. She and her siblings became friendly with my grandfather and his four sisters, friendships that lasted their whole lives. Libby outlived everyone, and continued her friendship with their children (my mom’s generation) and grandchildren (mine). Libby was married for a ten-year span in the 1950’s but then separated from her husband and never had children. She spent her years happily working for the telephone company before retiring in the 1960’s and caring for her aging parents until their deaths. After that, she and her boyfriend Arthur traveled the country and Canada, driving coast to coast more than three times and amassing albums of photographs from their travels. When she was home, she enjoyed baking and distributing her confections to friends and family. Her gingersnaps were legendary in many circles.
I’ve never known a time without Libby. Her siblings moved away and her contact with nieces and nephews was sporadic, but she never wanted for company or attention. She remained friendly with the children and grandchildren of three families, ensuring that she would never want for a holiday invitation. Easter, Christmas, 4th of July, Memorial Day, Mother’s Day – she had a standing invitation for someone’s event and off she went. When she decided, at the “youthful” age of 91, to sell her house and move into an assisted living facility in the same town she had spent her life, we merely changed our visits from the old house to the new apartment, which she set up as an exact replica of her old home with everyone’s help. Some days there would be so many folks visiting around the same time we’d create a log jam in the living room and joke about violating fire laws.
Libby loved her assisted living facility. She cleaned up at bingo, attended the outings to nearby restaurants, and always invited some friends down for the clambakes and other “family” activities that the facility organized. She loved “Antiques Roadshow,” Danielle Steel novels, and keeping up on Hollywood gossip. To this day she remains the only person I have ever met who had a subscription to “The National Enquirer.” She loved to go out, too, and for years we took her to the Outback Steakhouse where she would order a steak with potato, salad and black coffee, and finish everything. She embraced life, and her friendships with all of us who were so much younger than her, with an enthusiasm that was a joy to be around. It was always fun to see her, and she was always delighted you could drop by.
Nine days after her ninety-seventh birthday, Libby had a stroke in her sleep. In the last few months she had been failing, confined to primarily using a wheelchair and nodding off during visits from us. Years ago she had assigned power of attorney to the granddaughter of one of her friends, and Karen had always been her biggest supporter and champion. When the doctors at the hospital confirmed the stroke and the continued bleeding in her brain, Karen moved heaven and earth to organize hospice visits and get her back to the facility she called home so her final wishes of dying there would be honored. Karen stayed with her 24 hours a day once they were back in the facility, spelled by her own mother and other friends. Karen, her brother and I were present at Libby’s bedside when the priest performed Last Rights. Another friend spent hours sitting with her, holding her hand as Libby slept, comfortable due to morphine. Other folks passed in and out, talking to her, holding her hand and stroking her hair. Not a single blood relative of any sort was with Libby in those last few days, but there were plenty of people who more than made up for it.
When my grandparents were in their respective nursing homes and beginning to fail, it was up to my mother and me to take care of what they needed. There was no large coalition of people who stepped up to keep them company in their last days, because cousins were busy with their own families and while supportive, they limited their help to a weekly concerned phone call or two, and once in a rare while, a visit to the nursing home. My mother, an only child, bore the direct burden of care and intervention for her parents with only me (also an only child) as someone to help provide respite. Because my grandparents had a daughter, the assumption was that their care was her responsibility. My grandparents were lucky; there are many people who have been put in nursing homes by their children who don’t receive the care and attention from their offspring that my grandparents did. Many of the people in the facilities my grandparents were in were all alone, even on holidays.
Libby passed away three days after coming home from the hospital, surrounded by the friends who were her loved ones. She was a light in everyone’s life and at her funeral more than sixty friends gathered to see her off. She was a grand lady and a great friend to us all. And the next time I’m asked who will take care of me when I’m old if I don’t have children, I have my answer: plenty of people.
Copyright Kathleen O'Connor. Published 1 August 2008 in Editorials.
Reader comments
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Very touching story! I have known many childfree people who have surrounded themselves with friends and family and have done just fine if not BETTER than those with children. I find it amazing that in this day and age, people still believe their children will take care of them when they are old. The truth of the matter is that unfortunately, future children will most probably NOT be able to financially take care of aging parents. I think the most parents can hope for is that their children pick out a nice nursing home for them. With that said, they should also start saving money for said nursing home n the likely case their kids won’t be able to afford it!
permalink — 6 August 2008, 08:09
I’m so sorry you lost such a good friend. Thank you for sharing her story. She is a good example to all of us without children. Friends definitely are the family we choose for ourselves – what a beautiful thing!
permalink — 15 August 2008, 08:43
I am really sorry for your loss. Libby sounds like an amazing woman. I think what your article points out is that there is more to family than blood relation. Because childfree people do not have to invest all their time and energies into childrearing, and then the later dramas and problems with adult children, they can invest themselves more fully in relationships, thereby establishing a larger support system as they age.
And let’s also not forget that having children is no guarantee that they will take care of you in old age. There are sadly many, many elderly people left alone in nursing homes with no visitors. Many of them have children.
permalink — 19 August 2008, 03:02