I just got back from England where I celebrated my Dad’s 70^th birthday and faced the reality of aging parents.

My normally laid-back father was deeply stressed out about his party.  Ok, it was for 90 people and I too would be uptight, but on the morning of the event he collected me from the airport and when we arrived home and had a cup of tea, his hand was trembling so badly the tea was spilt.

His anxiety continued for several days after the party until every loose end was tied up.  And when I stayed with him, which was only for a few days, he was compelled to take care of paperwork and other affairs each morning that could have waited until I was gone.  My Dad is officially old.  Notwithstanding the fact that he plays racket ball, cycles, hikes and has a 58-year old girlfriend.  He’s not necessarily near death, but he’s declining.

My mother turns 70 later this year. Her body is failing her even though her energy is as vital as 40 years ago.  She has a bad neck, bad shoulder and knee, and her heart and lungs are weaker.  She senses her death is only a few years away.  And my astrologer suggested she might leave this life in 2012.

This creates an interesting and weird atmosphere.  Both my mother and I think she only has a few years to live.  I struggle with my mother and spending time with her is challenging.  But now I’m conscious that it is important.

She has always been very organized and over the years updated me on where her latest will was kept.  Last summer I made her help me photograph her jewelry so I could make notes on whom was to inherit what.  She would constantly remind me that this cousin was to get that ring and this friend that bracelet.  I was terrified that I would have no idea about these 30-odd bequests.  I feel much better now that I have a tidy file of photos and notes.

This time we went into the attic to have a clear out.  My mother’s home is immaculate and she has never hesitated to throw things away. (Like, all my childhood books.)  I was horrified to learn that she’s actually a secret hoarder.  Blankets and pillows “just in case.”  Inserts for boots, which reminded me of her fashionable knee high boots that she wore with her “peasant” dresses in the 1970s.  And where she gave the impression of being on top of her legal and financial papers, we would discover random files of important documents in boxes of photos or Christmas decorations.  She got mixed up over which bank she had an appointment with and she can’t find the paperwork for a bond she invested.  I don’t think it’s Alzheimer’s, which her mother suffered from, but it’s definitely a deterioration of memory.

Her consciousness of mortality is interesting.  If I were 70 and thought I might die at 72, how would I spend my time?   But knowing I might miscalculate and in fact need enough money to get through another ten years?  My mother has many regrets.  That attitude has always made me crazy, although, as I age, I’m collecting a few of my own.  So she has her regrets, her physical pain, the resources to be comfortable, but not enough to completely relax.   Her daughter lives in another country and is regrettably missing from her daily life, and is childless and unmarried to boot.  Her intermittent boyfriend/companion has health issues of his own.  How to spend that time?

I’m nearly 43 and it’s making me think very hard about my life.  Let’s assume I have 20 healthy years (and that’s a big assumption.)  How do I want to spend them?  Ten years ago, that would have seemed like an infinite amount of time, but now each year passes quickly.  How to avoid being my mother?