Two years ago, after a family meeting with our adult kids and their spouses, my wife and I made the joint decision to move to the same area as them, in northern Virginia. It was the kids’ idea. All three are culturally traditional; they wanted this to keep intergenerational bonds tight. And it was practical, as well: They are having children at an alarming rate, and could use some help with their kids. In fact, for the first two years, we lived together in the same house with one of the second-generation families; only recently did they get their own place just a few houses away.
But the decision was also based on an understanding of what our lives would look like a few decades into the future, when those needing the most help wouldn’t be our children or grandchildren; it would be us. At some point, we will most likely need assistance and regular attention. And the proximity of our children will make the arrangements easy to establish.
So, during that first conversation, we and our children openly discussed our wishes and plans, should we ever become incapacitated. That may sound grim to you; in truth, it was pretty funny. “Don’t worry,” one son joked. “We’ll make it look like an accident.” Now there’s true filial loyalty.
Jokes aside, we were grappling with something that will sound familiar. Most families confront elder-care issues sooner or later. For many years, mom and dad serve as the caregivers to their dependent children; it’s universally understood as their obligation to do so. But what about when the relationship flips? What is the moral duty of adult children when their parents inevitably become care-needers?
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