Where to Begin?

Dear parents over fifty,
I wish I could find words that would fall into your heart like a drop of rain on parched earth.
I know the love with which you have followed your children's growth all these years: a love that has known sacrifice, renunciation, disappointment, frustration, but also the joy of keeping them near, of overcoming struggles and obstacles, of watching their progress, of savoring their gentleness. For some of you, it has not always gone this way.
Now, as you approach the evening of your lives, you are gripped by a new fear: having to leave him, how, where, with whom?
These questions that pound through your days and sometimes your sleepless nights are a real problem you are afraid to face directly, that you put off, that you try to forget.
What drop of blessing can fall into your heart? What answers can I offer for this authentic torment?
I try to put myself in your place and search with you for some suggestions that I offer in hope of not causing you pain. Will you be able to receive them and make them your own? And if they don't seem right or doable, will you forgive me for needlessly stirring the wound?

Now, as you approach the evening of your lives, you are gripped by a new fear: having to leave him, how, where, with whom?

These are only initial, partial suggestions that you can expand, modify, discuss. They should help you prepare your son to live not with you, but with others.
Every parent with a child capable of some independence knows well that you must not bind him in a relationship of strong dependence. You must let him gradually learn to choose and put on his own clothes, prepare his breakfast, do some shopping, wash dishes, tidy his room, make his bed. There's no need to go on—each young person has different capacities for independence.
When this first, crucial, and sometimes very long education is complete, the question to ask yourself is: "What have I never taught him to do alone, and can I still teach him?" Then act on it, little by little, without ever saying: "When you're alone, how will you manage?"—don't let your anxiety show.

• Help him become aware of his limits, but above all now, help him recognize his capacities. Make him conscious of what he can offer others, especially those who will care for him: a smile, courtesy, asking for help "please" from a neighbor or relative, and knowing how to say "thank you." Teach him to ask for help with things he cannot do and to offer his help with what he can do, so that acquaintances and friends appreciate his gifts and enjoy his presence. For example: visiting someone alone, asking if they need something, keeping them company, fetching the milk or newspaper, shelling peas. In some cases: playing with a small child, watching a baby. It matters to invent and create small tasks that will make him happy to do something for others, and that will make him likable and loved.
• Get to know some neighbors—friends in your building—and kindly ask if they might sometimes take him to play, get ice cream, go for a walk, or to a movie.

It's Worth Trying Again

You may say: "We've tried without success!" It's worth trying again. If it didn't work once, there can be a second time. It may help to ask a trusted adult nearby to understand that you are preparing him to live alone, without you.
It's vacation time: use it to try sending him away with friends, acquaintances, relatives for a few days, for a week. Reach out to your parish; ask if they can welcome him at a youth camp, with the scouts—explain your underlying reason. And if they agree, don't reel off a thousand things to watch for, a thousand of your fears. Let him try. The important thing is to tell only what is necessary.
There's no need, for example, to point out his favorite foods, the difficult habits he's picked up with you, picked up because you were too quick to overprotect him.

Start Building Community

And most of all, begin connecting with other parents you know well, get along with, whose children are similar to yours, whom you trust and respect. Talk about your plans, about what you imagine you could do together. It will be a start; then one thing leads to another. You could form a united group, determined to build something, with help from others, from an association, your parish, the local health authority, a convent, your bishop.
Don't tire before you start. Simply preparing a plan, presenting it to someone, weighing what's possible together, contacting those who have tried, begun, experimented—that is already a step forward.
In a coming issue, Ombre e Luci will present a guide on one way a group of parents might prepare a supported living community.

It will not be easy, but we will make this attempt for all of you who wish once again to believe that "it is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness."

- Mariangela Bertolini, 1989