My mom grew up on Long Island. She has not been back there since college, except for my grandmother’s funeral. She asked me yesterday to take her to her childhood home this fall, as dad is pretty old at this time and not up to driving in city traffic. I haven’t driven on the Island since my grandma’s passing in 2014, yet I am younger and probably more able to deal with the traffic.

I think it will be a nice a trip. I do value the remaining time I will be spending with mom and dad, as I know it won’t be long — within the next few years I’ll probably be without them. Mom’s health is probably worse then I am willing to acknowledge, and even my dad has gotten more frail. I would like to see a little bit about their childhood, have learn a little bit more about their lives before it’s too late.

Having known many older people who have passed, you think you have forever to share that last minute with them. At the end, you are in the most denial of the inevitable. When the decline is steepest, it’s hardest to admit it will soon be over. Many questions will never be asked or answered, forever a mystery, because you don’t really know what or how to ask them.

I concede my relationship with my parents isn’t always perfect. I am not them, and they are not me. My own mental health struggles also makes it hard at times to fully apprechiate them. I know they sometimes take advantage of me and I probably do the same in kind. I am not perfect but neither they are either. Still I want to do a few more trips with them — share places I go and explore — and learn a few places they’ve been in their lives too.