Giving up my home

If I said it once, I said it a dozen times, “I’ll never be a burden and live with my kids.” Having lived alone for 30 years; 20 on the farm and 10 in town, I couldn’t imagine giving up my own home and moving in with one of them.

Well, things change. Surgery in 2020 for severe spinal stenosis left me with rods in my neck, unable initially to move without help or to care for myself. I spent 30 days in the hospital; then, against my kids’ wishes, I moved to assisted living. I knew I still needed a lot of care and I still didn’t want to be a burden to them.

It was August 2020 – at the height of the Covid pandemic. My family couldn’t visit me at all, either in the hospital, or the assisted living facility. I was miserable; they were miserable, and I realized I was actually getting stronger. After one month, I felt recovered well enough to leave. My family and I discussed our options and it was decided they would move me into the home of my daughter and granddaughter here in town. (Ironically, almost my entire family got Covid after that, except me!)

I’ve never regretted my decision to give up my own home. My house had a lot of steps that ruled out my living there. I require the use of a walker and can no longer drive so I needed to be somewhere convenient for everyone.

Perhaps I should have thought about those steps when I bought the house, but my goal was to be close to the school. My granddaughters who lived in the country made my home their headquarters all through high school and careers in volleyball, basketball and tennis.

Moving into my daughter’s home meant giving up my independence, my cat and my things. My cat went to live with a granddaughter. My furniture and decorative items weren’t really that important to me, but I retained my own bed, dresser, recliner and a bookcase for my room, books and photos and personal items, plus the journals I’ve been writing in for 51 years. Everything else could go.

My family all gathered one weekend and we went to my house and had a joyful time as everyone selected the things each of them needed or wanted as keepsakes. My two oldest granddaughters who have their own homes in Dubuque took several pieces of furniture. To this day, I’m not sure who took what items; it just pleases me to know my family members have them.

It’s funny how circumstances change everything. I feel very fortunate to be where I am. My youngest granddaughter was only 11 when I moved into my room next to her’s. I had taken care of her while her mom worked since she was born. Now we took care of one another, which enabled my daughter to continue commuting to Des Moines for work. Now, my granddaughter could spend countless hours in my room singing, dancing and acting.

Two years later when they moved to Iowa City so she could attend ICON, a performing arts conservatory, I had recovered well enough to live alone during the weeks they are gone.

The point of telling my story is to demonstrate how there’s no way to completely predict or plan for what is to come in life. After living on my farm surrounded by space as far as I could see, I now live primarily in one room. Of course, I can move about the rest of the house, but like most elderly folks, I am most comfortable in my own room, with my own chair, my own television and my own bed.

I am comfortable and content, and that matters most. I can look after myself and do well when my daughter and granddaughter are at home, and well when they’re in Iowa City. I never feel lonely, but if I did, I could always be more sociable.

The dogs are company for me and I consider them “my chores,” similar to what I spent my life doing on the farm. It’s good to have someone to take care of beside myself.

There was no purpose in dwelling on the things I had to give up. It’s better to think about the things I still have.