My parents, who both passed seven years ago, were born one day apart one hundred years ago. Although they are no longer physically here to celebrate, they will always be in my heart and part of my life. If there is a heaven, they would certainly both be there now, given their compassion for and generosity to others. To me, they are saints who made my success in life possible. They could not have children of their own, so they adopted both me and my younger sister to share their lives.

I was brought into their family in October of 1951, two months after I was born. They both lived to be 93, dying just months apart in 2014. They were my caretakers for nearly 63 years, but my dad sadly couldn’t recognize me the last few while my mom was overburdened during this difficult time with his needs. Dementia took its toll on both of them, although only his mind was affected. He went into assisted living while she remained at home. I was too far away to be of much help, so my sister took on the responsibilities for their care. I should have been there for them, as they were always there for me. 

There were a lot of “should-haves” that I managed to ignore, consumed in my remarriage and career. Distance was always my excuse, but they raised me to be independent. I caused a lot of anguish in their lives, especially in my college years. I have my share of regrets, as I think back to living under their roof and the difficult transition into adulthood. They did not deserve the grief that I put them through, but as I’ve learned, this is part of being a loving and forgiving parent. 

I can’t imagine being part of a better family or be given greater opportunities. I drew life’s winning lottery ticket, when the alternatives could have been abortion, foster care, or mismatched adoption. Here I am now leading a comfortable retirement life with grandchildren of my own thanks primarily to them. Happy 100 Mom and Dad with all my love – let them eat angel cake!