“But who will take care of you when you are old?”
Reflections on Interview with Ashley Ackley
“Loneliness in older people seems to be a pretty common feeling to me whether you have family around or not. Maybe that’s just part of being human. I don’t think having kids of your own is the solution necessarily.”
Ashley’s words from last week’s interview immediately struck me as true. And yet, “who will take care of you when you are old?” was one of the most common refrains I heard from those surprised to learn I was considering not having kids.
Having someone to take care of me when I am old always felt like the wrong reason to have a kid. My interview with Ashley helped me understand why.
Is it right to lay this responsibility on children?
It never felt right to expect a child to support me in my old age. Having a brother with a disability, and then losing him suddenly, made this point especially acute in my mind. Ben had long-term-care needs that meant my parents and I would always take care of him. And losing him suddenly made me realize that I couldn’t count on even my little brother outliving me.
To me, agreeing to become someone’s parent means agreeing to do my best to provide for them. I can’t expect them to provide for me. I don’t know what their capabilities will be. I don’t know what our relationship will be when I am older. And, ultimately, as much as I hate to think it, I don’t know how long I will have them in my life.
Looking at it this way, the well-meaning question “who will take care of you when you are old?” assumes a lot: a lifelong relationship with a financially stable and capable child, a well-equipped mother-in-law suite, and the personality and appetite for long-term care.
What about the other people in our lives?
I don’t know what my relationship with my daughter will be later in life. And I only have so much control. But when it comes to the abundance of other people in the world, I have more control. I can plant a sundry garden of friendships and see which ones grow and stand the test of time.
Ashley is a prime example of this. She cultivates caring relationships wherever she goes in life, mentoring young people, lunching with elders, and adding both human and animal friends to her life on a regular basis. I think this makes her one of the best set up of any of my friends for happiness late in life.
What if loneliness isn’t so bad?
Ashely’s response struck a third, even deeper chord—the idea of loneliness as a natural part of life. Reflexively, I hate to think of loved ones or myself being lonely for any significant amount of time. But Ashley mentioned her grandmother’s loneliness late in life even while living with her son and seeing her grandchildren regularly.
Ashley’s experience with her grandmother reminded me of a Liz Gilbert quote: “When I get lonely these days, I think: So BE lonely, Liz. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience.”
Maybe loneliness isn’t an experience from which having kids can free us, but an experience that comes and goes in every life. An experience that can teach us things—profound things—if we are willing to make a map of it.
Sitting with loneliness means sitting in the company of the only person we know will be there to take care of us all of our lives. With kids or without.