CHRISTIANE RUDIGIER

There are so many types of insurance... We try to mitigate every possible risk in our lives. Just a few examples: there is insurance for glasses, phones, devices, passenger accident insurance, daily hospital cash insurance, credit insurance (residual debt insurance), travel luggage insurance, household contents insurance, liability insurance, glass insurance, occupational disability supplementary insurance, insurance against floods, storms, hail damage... All of these are situations that may occur once in a normal life. We prepare for them, even though these events are often very rare—or may never happen at all. But it gives us a sense of security, and we are willing to pay for it, often for decades.Aging and our own death, however, are guaranteed to happen with 100% certainty, yet we are usually not willing to secure ourselves for this reality of life or pay for these preparatory measures (even if health insurance does not cover them).
Why is that?

Personal Thoughts: How Can We Relate to Our Aging Parents?

‍Aging is not only something that parents have to get used to, but also their children.
“We want to grow old together.”
“In our old age, we want to sit together on a bench, happy and content, enjoying life, our children, and grandchildren.”
This is what most couples dream of, and it is the promise many made to each other on their wedding day. Don’t we all long for this romantic image of old age?However, reality often looks quite different—for the aging couple and also for their children. Because children are also deeply affected by their parents’ aging process.
“Getting old is not for the faint of heart,” as Joachim Fuchsberger said. And how right he was. It’s certainly not easy to experience the decline in one’s usual abilities, the shrinking radius of mobility, the increase in illnesses and physical as well as mental limitations, and the gradual loss of autonomy, with more and more reliance on outside help and support.Thanks to modern medicine, we are living longer than ever, which also extends the "twilight years" of life. Today, we are “fit seniors” for much longer, which is a blessing, but illnesses like dementia, Parkinson's, Alzheimer's, cancer, etc., are increasingly shaping the experience of long aging, often leading to a prolonged state of decline. This poses new challenges for the next generation—us, the children.For children, too, their parents’ aging is usually not easy. It requires a shift in mindset, not only for the parents but also for the children. At a certain age—where I am now (+/- 50)—many major life themes collide. Our own children leave the house and start their own lives. We must learn to say goodbye and let go. At the same time, we women are going through menopause. It is, quite literally, a time of transition. Many questions arise: How do I reorient myself, possibly even professionally? How do I redefine my identity now that I’m no longer an active mother as I’ve been for the past 20 years? We must let go of familiar roles, and it’s often a turning point in our own relationships. It is a time of accepting the new and the unknown. This can be unsettling and even frightening. We may no longer recognize ourselves, even if the possibility of more freedom intrigues us. We also begin to feel our own mortality more clearly and are deeply engaged with our internal and external transformations.At this stage of life, we are actually in need of protection ourselves. And yet, during this time, our relationship with our parents takes on a whole new dynamic. Our parents, often around 80, are becoming more and more dependent and, in some cases, in need of care.It is precisely during this period, when we women are deeply preoccupied with ourselves and crave space for ourselves, that we increasingly become the caretakers of our parents. We become their "parents," dedicating much of our time to their care. Our parents, in turn, become like "children," as they increasingly rely on help and support. This process and role reversal can be challenging for both parties and carries a lot of potential for conflict:
‍For the parents:
It’s already difficult enough for them to process the loss and grief associated with aging, but we, their children, often overstep the mark with our well-intentioned care and concern. We want to organize things for them, but they might not be ready (e.g., moving into a nursing home). We point out their declining abilities (“Dad, you really can’t and shouldn’t drive anymore, it’s dangerous for you and others.” “Mom, wouldn’t you like to have some help with the housework?”). In plain language, this means: “Dad, the way you drive now is really dangerous with your poor eyesight and hearing.” “Mom, you can’t manage the household anymore. Just look at the state of the house.”
Our parents often feel attacked by us, invaded, and deprived of their autonomy. We, as their children, don’t mean any harm—we are concerned and want to take precautions. But we often approach things from our own perspective and forget that we cannot truly understand what it feels like to be 70, 80, or older.
‍For the children:
It’s also difficult for us, as children, to realize and accept that the image we had of our parents (e.g., the strong, capable father or the nurturing mother) is changing or disappearing entirely. Dad is no longer the rock in the storm, and maybe now it’s up to the child to be that for him. Or when a parent regresses into a childlike state. When dementia sets in, we suddenly have to be the patient ones, listening to the same stories repeated over and over. Or when parents only want to talk about themselves, with little interest in others.We did the same as children: we told our parents the same stories over and over and never really cared about their well-being, only our own. That’s completely normal for a child. Maybe it’s also completely normal for an elderly person? So, as children, we also have to go through a process of letting go and grieving, which often doesn’t happen without some friction.Children and parents should be “gracious” with each other and practice forgiveness when it comes to their mutual “shortcomings.”
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We children must not forget that our parents care deeply about maintaining their dignity, which must not be lost. It’s a fine and difficult line between providing necessary support and help, and overstepping into interference and degradation. I am well aware of this.And one day, I too will certainly wish for my children’s willingness to walk this delicate tightrope with care."
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‍What does baking have to do with grieving or working through grief?
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I am currently mourning two great loves that have left my life within two months: my elderly, frail mother and my old, sick dog.
What do I do with all the care I gave to these two loved ones for so long? I can't just turn it off like a switch. Over the past weeks, I’ve found it hard to focus on or commit to anything. No book or film held my attention, and resting or doing nothing wasn’t an option. I paced through my house like a restless tiger in a cage.In January, in the midst of my mother's dying process, I started baking Christmas cookies in the evenings and realized that it brought me a great sense of calm and grounding. It was very comforting for me to create something beautiful, delicate, delicious, and nourishing. I should mention that I generally enjoy baking, but of course, I asked myself why I suddenly had such an urge to bake all the time, especially now.Baking brings me from my head into my body. My hands are busy, and my thoughts take a break. Feelings and emotions become clearer, and tears are allowed to flow. Cookies, cakes, and pastries remind me of happy celebrations and events. A mix of loving memories, gratitude, and longing. I find comfort in baking, and as a positive side effect, my husband, friends, and neighbors are all benefiting from my 'baking craze.'
Practical actions in life can also be therapy or represent a healing process for the heart.
There are many paths to healing. The important thing is: it must work for each individual in their own way!