I turned 60 a while back, and let me tell you, it’s not quite the golden era I’d imagined. Sure, there’s wisdom—or at least a knack for faking it—and a certain freedom in not caring what the neighbor thinks about my overgrown lawn. But lately, life has felt more like a high-wire act, balancing grief, family drama, and the relentless march of time. A year ago, I lost my mom to cancer. Now, my 89-year-old dad just took a fall and broke his hip. It’s a lot. And I’m not the only one feeling the weight—my siblings, my job, and my own headspace are all tangled up in this mess. Here’s what I’ve learned so far, and a few ways I’m trying to make it better.

The Emotional Rollercoaster

Losing Mom was brutal. Cancer doesn’t mess around—we had bonus years but they went by quickly, and even a year later, I catch myself reaching for the phone to call her about something trivial, like how to get a stain out of a shirt. That grief was still simmering when Dad fell. He’s 89, stubborn as a mule, and until recently, he was still shuffling around the house like he owned the place. Now he’s in a hospital bed, recovering from surgery and next step -rehab. And I’m staring down the reality that he’s not invincible. The emotions hit like waves: sadness, guilt for not being there when he fell, anger that life keeps piling on, and this weird nostalgia for when things were simpler.

My siblings feel it too, but we’re all processing it differently. Me? I’m trying to hold it together while quietly falling apart. It’s exhausting.

Siblings: Allies and Adversaries

Speaking of siblings, navigating this with them is its own circus. We’re a team, sure, but we’re also a mess of clashing opinions and personalities. I am thankful we pull together and can work as a team. My youngest sister is fantastic at the details, insurance, rehab, communicating with doctors. My middle sister is a massage therapist and comes in to sooth dad and give him reiki. My brother, he lives in a different state, is really good at telling it like it is when dad needs to hear the hard truth. Me, well, I don’t know what I really DO other than offer support, encouraging words and my time sitting with him. I’m the emotional one – I can cry on a dime and sometimes get too emotionally charged. I am grateful however, that the four of us seem to manage well together and not act like a bunch of teenagers fighting over a remote!

Work: The Unsympathetic Juggler

Then there’s work. I’m lucky in that I have several part time jobs (gig work I think is the term now). I seem to be managing to show up for the jobs that I am being employed with but my entrepreneurial work is suffering in a big way. It is challenging to make it all work well.

Finding Ways to Make It Better

So, how do we keep from drowning in all this? I’m no expert, but here’s what’s helping me—and might help you if you’re in the same boat:

1. Lean on Each Other (When Possible)
   My siblings and I aren’t perfect, but we’ve started a group text just for updates on Dad. No arguing, no guilt trips—just facts. It’s a small thing, but it cuts through the noise. Find the one channel that works for your family, and use it.
2. Steal Moments for Yourself
   I’ve started walking around the block with my dog Rex. It’s 15 minutes of quiet where I can breathe, think about Mom without breaking down, and brace myself for whatever’s next. Carve out something, anything, that’s yours.
3. Ask for Help
   I hate doing it, and I haven’t been able to do this to be honest – but I am a work in progress and will get there!
4. Laugh When You Can
   Dad’s still got his sense of humor, cracked hip and all. Find the absurd in the awful—it’s there if you look.
5. Let the Guilt Go (or Try To)
   I wasn’t there when Dad fell. I didn’t catch Mom’s cancer sooner. I could “should’ve” myself to death, but it doesn’t change a thing. I’m doing my best, and that’s enough.

The Road Ahead

Dad’s being moved to rehab tomorrow. He cam through surgery like a champ for his age and now he has to do the hard work of recovery. Will he bounce back? Will we figure out how to care for him? I don’t know. What I do know is that being in my 60s isn’t just about slowing down—it’s about facing the hard stuff head-on, with a little more grace than I had at 40. Mom’s gone, Dad’s fragile, and my siblings and I are a work in progress. But we’re in it together, and somehow, that’s got to be enough.

If you’re juggling your own version of this insanity, drop a comment. I’d love to hear how you’re making it through. For now, I’m off to the hospital with a coffee in hand and a prayer in my pocket. Here’s to surviving the practical insanity of it all.