My parents are remarkable; they still live in their own home and run their own affairs.
My mom, though, is extremely fragile. After a lifetime of community activities, she only goes out now to play bridge. She’s so good that people half her age want to play with her. The only condition is that they give her a ride to the game.
My father is cantankerous (probably because everything hurts) and disciplined. He markets, cooks, cleans up the kitchen and exercises at the Jewish Center Health Club five days a week. (Which means that he still drives – something that keeps my brother and me and my nephew in a constant state of worry.) They refuse to have household help other than a weekly cleaning woman.
Almost daily I thank God for the blessing of having them still, and tell myself: “they have the right to live the way they want to and their future is not in your hands.”