Ever more often, I hear Miklos expressing the thought that he is good for nothing, useless, a drag on me, and that he should just die. My daughters remind me that he may really just be winding down, and preparing himself for his inevitable death. I understand that need. I have no illusions of immortality. He has already lived ten years longer than the current US average.

What I wish is that I could help him change the narrative — not because I can’t accept the reality that he may die at any time. But I would like for him to see it not as having outworn his usefulness. I would like for him to realize how much joy he brings to the world. I wish he could remember all the people whose lives he has touched for the better, some at critical times in their lives. I wish he could imagine the eulogies and memories others will share at his funeral, because I can imagine very well what some people will say. 

The delicate balance is between giving him permission to slow down and let go, and arguing that his life has great value, even at this stage of his life. I blow it all the time. Sometimes I probably contribute to his feelings of uselessness. Too often, I get too irritated with his increasing inabilities. Sometimes, I probably argue to forcefully about how important he is to his children, grandchildren, and friends, as though he has a responsibility to stay alive forever. I would like to be perfectly supportive, but I don’t have the balance right yet.

The narrative I wish he could tell himself is that he has spent his life helping other people, and that he has been very important in their lives, but that now he has done enough. He can rest on his laurels, and face the future confident of the contribution he has made to the world.