An Introduction by MayCay Beeler
No words can fully describe the void a child feels when a parent dies. Even when that child is an adult, the pain can be unbearable.
I was 33 years old when my Dad died. His death rocked my world. Suddenly the one man who represented such great strength to me was gone- and life would never be the same.
I was too caught up in my own grief to anticipate the gravity of the changes my mother would go through. I knew this would be a difficult time for her, yet had no clue as to its extent. After staying with Mom for a week after Dad's funeral at our family home in Maryland, I had to return to my job, and my life- some 350 miles away. I called Mom every day to check on her, and see how she was adjusting to an empty house without Dad.
Mom learned soon enough about the loneliness that accompanies widowhood. Though friends have good intentions, after the funeral they go about their own lives as normal, often forgetting about the widow who is abruptly left behind in a newly hollow world. While Mom's life was suddenly empty with time to spare, the life of her friends remained full, often too full to make extra time for her.
As time passed, Mom started talking about the possibility of moving into a Retirement Community. Perhaps there she could meet other people who like her, were alone, with time on their hands, looking for companionship and enjoyable activities. Anything, it seemed, would be an improvement over living alone in our vacant family house. As a TV News Reporter, I had produced a special series on alternative living styles for senior citizens who were alone, lonely, or ailing from old age. I had interviewed residents in Retirement Communities and did not feel this was the right move for my Mom. I had the impression such a lifestyle was best suited for seniors in their 80's and 90's. My Mom was only 68 when she started considering this type of arrangement. I couldn't help but feel this would cut her off from what "youth" she had left...almost as if she were "giving up." This upset me terribly, yet I had to go along with my mother's wishes. Her happiness is everything to me, and if she really wanted to live at a Retirement Community, then I would support her, no matter what my gut told me.
The following is Mom's story, in her own words, about her experience in a Retirement Community. The location she picked is one of the best in the nation (we did our homework). It is our wish this account will help other widows make the right decision for themselves when considering such a change in lifestyle.
Tula Brocard's Story
The house was filled with an unremitting loneliness in the four years since my husband had died. My neighborhood had no single people except for the woman next door. At night I used to look out at the light in her house for some comfort and to remind myself there were millions of widows who shared my loneliness. Then she died, and the light went out.
Shortly afterward, my son and his family moved out of state and encouraged me to follow them. Both he and my daughter, who lived in another state, felt there would be more desirable housing opportunities where he was going. There was absolutely no question in my mind about what I needed. I did not want the burden of owning another house or the isolation of an impersonal apartment building. A senior adult complex with a full-time activities director seemed ideal. There were many to choose from in the large metropolitan area that would be my new home. I visited each and every one, carefully noting all the inviting amenities. The residents were predominantly widows, and the opportunity to share delicious dinners with them in an elegant dining room would be a welcome change from the solitary TV dinners I had resorted to after my husband died. Also, in the course of the numerous activities offered, I was certain I could make some wonderful compatible friends.
Any concern about the age of the residents- most were in their middle to upper 80's- was relieved by the assurance that many were young in spirit. Also, there was a sprinkling of residents closer to 70, which was my age. Of all the senior adult communities I had researched, I chose the one with the most beautiful surroundings that had the most to offer. And so, with great joyous anticipation I moved in after selling my house. As I settled in, I appreciated more and more the amenities offered: gorgeous furnishings, delightful landscaping, bright modern apartments, heated swimming pool, exercise room, a safe indoor garage, scheduled transportation for various needs, and many planned activities.
I soon discovered that the spacious lobby, with its comfortable chairs and couches, was a magnet for some of the residents. I eagerly joined them for companionship and to get to know them better.
Yes, I had high hopes for my new life! Then the realization began to creep in that all was not nearly as rosy as I had imagined. It started with the constant talk about how dangerous it was to drive in this area, especially the busy street on which our building was located. Those complaining were women in their 80's who had moved here from other areas and whose families had insisted they give up their cars. They incessantly complimented themselves for not risking life and limb to drive. A favorite reference was always being made to a bumper sticker which asked for prayers for those who drove our street. Having been rear-ended at a red light shortly after moving in, I was all too vulnerable to these negative comments.
The daily assaults began to erode my own driving confidence. I drove only when absolutely necessary, and then only to a few places. While I had always enjoyed driving before, now I felt anxious at the mere thought of getting into my car.
A shocking awakening came one day when I found myself lining up with the 80 and 90 year olds to be driven in a van to a grocery store just blocks away. My car sat parked in the garage because I was hesitant to drive if I could possibly avoid it. I realized that, although I was just 70, I was casting myself in the mold of those ten to twenty years older. Worse yet, I was being paralyzed by their fears.
To free myself of these fears I fled the company of the lobby "Cassandras", only to find that the entire atmosphere of the building was being poisoned by a heavy blanket of negativity. Whether in a chance encounter in the halls or at dinner, it was impossible to escape all the negative comments. There were increasing complaints about the food, which in reality was excellent. People who had lived in other retirement-type facilities attested to its high quality. There were complaints about the service and mean-spirited remarks about management, which strove mightily to please. In addition, there was a spreading of malicious, unfounded rumors.
The complaints included anything and everything imaginable. When a word on the in-house television station, which gave daily announcements, was misspelled, the staff would get calls protesting the error. It seemed as though there was a rising tide of petty complaints and negativity. Even people who had previously seemed pleasant now went out of their way to find something to gossip about. It was a spreading contagion.
The situation was acutely sensed not only by me, but by other kindred spirits. Their only defense was to get out of our building as often as possible. Those who were natives or long-time residents in the area, with their own circle of friends and outside activities, had a ready-made escape. Others sought refuge in going to shopping malls on a daily basis. My lack of outside contacts along with my new fear of driving kept me a virtual prisoner.
With an aged resident population, there were frequent visits to doctors and hospitalizations. Consequently, there was much talk about illness and death. Worst were the self-appointed chroniclers of the health status of the residents. They made it their business to report the failing health or appearance of their peers and speculate the causes. It was always the worst case scenario. Privacy was hard to come by. It was starting to drive me crazy.
I couldn't seem to shake off the constant negativity. As my barriers wore down, I felt increasing anger and resentment. What I had once viewed as a beautiful dream for my new life had turned out to be a nightmare. And it was even affecting my health! Eventually, I came to terms with the fact that by and large, these were older people with aches, pains, fears of dying, and with nothing else to occupy their minds. Increasingly, however, my whole being rebelled, warning me that I could not continue to live in their midst and survive.
As it turned out, my son and his wife, who had encouraged me to relocate with them, were completely wrapped-up with the demands of their young family, business, church and social responsibilities. Despite good intentions, their schedule permitted only brief, infrequent visits- hardly enough to compensate for the frustrations of my living conditions. So I knew I had to move. But where?
Fortunately for me, another door opened at that point. Some cluster homes were being built adjacent to where my daughter was living in another state. She urged me to consider one so that I could be close to her, her husband, and my 3 year old grandson. Because of the warm caring relationship I have always enjoyed with them, I was happy to do so.
Ironically, I was once again taking on the burdens of owning a house that I had so gladly shed when I sold my previous home. But I had come to learn that what I had hoped would be a new found freedom in retirement living was just a fantasy. So now, at age 72, I am most content to live in a beautiful compact patio home of manageable size, where I am truly independent and free of disturbing influences. And I am grateful to God for the health, desire, and opportunity to embrace this new chapter in my life.
Certainly, senior adult community or retirement living has its place. For those seniors who do not wish to be a burden to their children in their golden years (this included me), or for those who physically are not able to live alone or care for themselves, and for folks with no other place to go- this living option seems to be it. Clearly it seems best suited for older seniors, so I would caution anyone considering this lifestyle to be aware of any great differences in age range. Be mindful that the beauty and desirability of the facility with all is amenities can be overshadowed by the negativity inherent in a concentration of aged, ailing people with time on their hands. It is the nature of the beast. Such an arrangement may serve some persons well, but it is not for everyone. -Tula Brocard
A note on cost: Mom's retirement facility required a reasonable up front entrance fee (similar to an apartment security deposit), a year's lease, plus rent (including dinner and all amenities) ranging from $2,000.00 -$3,000.00 per month. Beware of other facilities that demand exhorbitant non-refundable entrance fees from $10,000.00 to over $100,000.000, along with the $3,000.00 monthly rent on top of that. Such steep fees can swallow a senior's life savings overnight. Use caution in considering such facilities. There are other options. They come in many flavors and forms- from independent to assisted living, to facilities with nursing homes on site. While such retirement living is not inexpensive, some communities are more affordable than others. There are many to choose from. Do your homework.
A note on quality of living: A fellow retirement community resident once told my Mom "You know, we are just biding time here, waiting to die". The words stung, and were likely true. If you have a choice, do not consider such living arrangements for yourself or a parent unless you are fully aware of the pros and cons of this lifestyle.
Last but not least: Retirement community living can be a positive experience. But if it falls short of expectations, do remember, you can always make a change.
-MayCay Beeler
