Living with parents in their 80s teaches you something no book or motivational quote ever can.
It’s not the big, dramatic sacrifices.
It’s the tiny, everyday adjustments that slowly become your new normal.
And strangely… you don’t even complain. You just adapt.
Food, for example, used to be simple. Now it’s thoughtful.
Vegetables are often steamed or cooked until very soft because my parents don’t have strong teeth anymore. Mum has gum problems too, so everything has to be gentle on the mouth. What used to feel “overcooked” now feels like comfort food.
Meat has to change as well. No tough cuts, no chewy bites. Everything needs to be tender, slow-cooked, or shredded. If it takes effort to chew, it’s off the menu. Cooking isn’t about taste first anymore — it’s about whether they can actually eat it comfortably.
Mum has chronic digestive and stomach issues, so heavy, spicy and sour food can make her miserable for hours. We rarely eat deep fried food these days. Our meals are lighter, simpler, plainer.
Funny enough, my taste buds changed along the way too.
Fruits don’t come sliced on a plate anymore for my parents. They go into the blender. Apples, pears, papayas — smoothie form is just easier. No biting, no chewing, no struggle. Just sip and enjoy. The house sounds like a juice bar every evening when mum makes her smoothie.
Even snacks are different. Hard nuts are out. Walnuts are in — the softest, easiest, and healthiest option for them. Grocery shopping has turned into a quiet calculation of “Can they chew this?”
But it’s not just food.
Safety becomes part of daily life.
Indoor slippers can’t be left lying around carelessly. One wrong step could mean a fall. The floor can’t be too wet after mopping. Even cleaning products have to be chosen carefully — no strong perfumes or harsh disinfectants because Mum’s asthma and lungs are sensitive. I have to stop using strong smelling cleaners downstairs as my parents are downstairs all the time now. I ‘stay’ upstairs and the nice-smelling cleaners are now for upstairs use.
Things I never used to think about… now I notice automatically.
And walking — something so simple — has changed too.
I used to walk very fast. Everywhere. I’m the type who zooms from point A to point B without thinking.
But when I’m with Mum, I slow down.
Way down..
She has to be extra careful with every step. She fell several times over the past few years and broke her right shoulder and wrist, injured her head and broke her teeth. Since then, every uneven tile, every curb, every staircase feels like a potential danger. I match her pace now, step by step, holding her hand, sometimes almost shuffling.
Dad, on the other hand, still walks surprisingly fast for his age — which somehow makes me even more nervous. I’m constantly watching him, worrying he might trip or lose balance. It’s funny how parenting quietly reverses like that. They used to worry about me falling. Now I’m the one worrying about them.
Even the ceiling fan has rules.
Speed one only.
Because of Mum’s chronic lung issues and asthma, strong wind makes her uncomfortable. Meanwhile, I’m sweating buckets thanks to perimenopause and our lovely 38°C weather. Some afternoons feel like I’m slow-roasting indoors.
But still… the fan stays at speed one.
Because her breathing matters more than my comfort.
All these little adjustments might sound restrictive to some people.
But to me, they feel like love in its most practical form.
Not grand gestures.
Just small, quiet choices every single day.
Cook softer. Walk slower. Mop carefully. Sweat a little more. Rearrange your life gently around the people who once rearranged theirs for you.
And truly — I have no complaints.
At their age, time feels different.
Their presence feels like a luxury.
Every morning I see them at the dining table, every simple meal we share, every small conversation — it all feels like bonus time. Extra chapters I didn’t know I would get.
I thank God for giving them such long lives.
And I silently hope for a few more years… maybe more birthdays, more slow walks, more speed-one fan days.
Moving back to my hometown to be with them is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
And when that day comes, I know I’ll miss every single one of them.
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| Simple and soft dishes that my 83-year old dad cooked for us: steamed okra, steamed red spinach, air-fried salmon with homegrown rosemary, chicken feet from soup (collagen for their joints), yacon and radish soup, beet root + corn soup, stir-fried yau mak veggie with red yeast and garlic, and steamed white pomfret with red dates, goji berries and ginger. Very simple yet delish and nutritious dishes. |
