“My Neighbor Asked Me to Look After Her Mother”: How I Found Purpose in Retirement

Five years ago, my life took an unexpected turn. I had just retired from a long career in education, looking forward to a quiet life, perhaps filled with gardening and books. That was until Hannah, my neighbor and the mother of my son Jack’s wife, Aria, approached me with a request that changed everything.

Hannah had been working in Canada for several years, and her job demanded so much of her time that she couldn’t make it back for Jack and Aria’s wedding. She sent a generous gift instead, which helped the young couple settle into their new life in a cozy apartment not too far from where I lived. A year into their marriage, Aria gave birth to a beautiful boy, Eric. It was around this time that Hannah asked if I could help by looking after her mother, Ralph’s grandmother, who was beginning to need daily assistance.

I agreed without hesitation. Caring for someone felt like a meaningful way to spend my retirement. Ralph’s grandmother, whom I’ll call Mrs. Smith, was a spirited woman in her late eighties with a sharp wit and a treasure trove of stories. However, as months passed, her health began to decline rapidly. Her memory faded, and her mobility decreased, requiring more and more of my time and energy.

The responsibility started to weigh heavily on me, especially as I was also committed to helping Jack and Aria by looking after Eric. I found myself juggling my time between a toddler and an elderly woman, both needing constant care but in very different ways. The stress began to affect my health. I felt tired all the time, my back ached from lifting Mrs. Smith, and I had little time to care for myself.

As the second year drew to a close, Mrs. Smith’s condition worsened, and she started to require professional medical care. I continued to help, but it was clear that she needed more than I could provide. The guilt of not being able to manage her care better was overwhelming. I felt like I was failing her and Hannah, who continued to work abroad, relying on me.

Then, one cold December morning, I received a call that Mrs. Smith had passed away in her sleep. The news hit me hard. Despite the relief that her suffering had ended, I felt a profound sense of loss and failure. I had become so involved in her care that her death left a void in my life, compounded by the guilt that maybe I could have done more.

The following months were tough. I tried to focus on Eric and help Jack and Aria, but the joy of being with my grandson was overshadowed by my grief and declining health. Eventually, I had to reduce the time I spent with Eric, as I couldn’t keep up with his energy.

Looking back, those five years taught me about the limits of my endurance and the complexities of caregiving. I had stepped into retirement hoping to find peace and instead found a test of my strength and spirit. While I don’t regret helping Mrs. Smith or my family, I wish I had recognized my limits earlier and sought more help.