Caring for My Mother: Money, Control, and Family Boundaries

There is another side to the story I shared about visiting my mother. If I’m going to be transparent about the coffee, the conversations, and the importance of showing up, I need to be honest about the harder part, too.

My mother is in a skilled nursing facility after two strokes in three months. She wants to move into assisted living. Eventually, when she’s mobile enough, the plan is to get her to Thailand.

She has also made something else clear: she does not want to return to Rivertowne to live with her husband, my father.

That is a difficult sentence to write. It is also necessary to understand what’s happening.

The Cost of Care

Assisted living is expensive. The places I’m looking at start around $6,000 a month for somewhere “nice.” We are not talking about the Four Seasons. At that price, though, I wouldn’t mind a mint on the pillow.

When my mother was in the hospital and expressed that she didn’t want to return home, my father’s first response was:

“Who is going to pay for it?”

I understand that hearing your spouse doesn’t want to live with you can hurt. I’m divorced. I received my own invitation to leave the home, and I left. I didn’t return. I understand that conversation carries feelings.

But my mother still needs care. Her wishes still deserve to be heard.

During a trip to Costco, before all of this, my mother told me she had a 401(k) through her employer. She gave me a rough idea of the balance during a conversation about things involving my father that were upsetting her.

Apparently, a Costco trip can include bulk groceries and information that becomes very important later.

When my father balked at assisted living, I remembered that account. My mother had worked and saved money over time. I wanted to explore using those savings for her care.

I asked him for the information to start that process.

His response was:

“I’ll think about it.”

Money and Control

I’ve heard stories about families coming apart over money. About a parent needing care and the conversations turning into arguments over accounts, expenses, and who gets to decide.

Now I’m experiencing that family strife myself.

From where I stand, this is all about money and control.

My mother has expressed where she wants to live and what she wants her next chapter to look like. Yet my conversations with my father keep coming back to whether money will be made available and who gets the final say.

When I hear “I’ll think about it” in response to a request for information about her savings, I hear him positioning himself as the person who decides whether her wishes can move forward.

That is why this feels like more than a disagreement about an expensive facility. Access to money affects my mother’s choices. Whoever controls that access has enormous influence over where she can go and how she can live.

I understand that $6,000 a month requires planning. I’m willing to work through the costs, the account details, and the practical questions.

What I’m struggling with is having to argue for taking my mother’s wishes seriously in the first place.

Taking Responsibility for Her Wishes

As of today, I am officially my mother’s power of attorney. I am also her designated proxy.

I let my younger brothers know my intentions because I wanted them informed. They know the plan: assisted living, then Thailand when Mom is mobile enough.

I want my mother’s wishes to guide the decisions about her care. There are details to work through, but I don’t want her voice getting lost in arguments about money or what someone else prefers.

Yesterday, my father began what I experienced as a negotiation over her care.

I told him I didn’t see this as a negotiation. I was talking about money my mother had earned and saved, and using it to care for her.

His response was:

“Prove it.”

Those two words changed how I saw him.

I was trying to move a conversation about my mother’s care forward. Instead, I felt pulled into a contest over authority and control.

My mother is recovering from two strokes. She has enough work ahead of her without her wishes becoming another thing she has to fight for.

What This Has Brought Up for Me

In that moment, I lost respect for my father.

I can acknowledge that he helped give me life, taught me things, and supported me at different points. Those parts of our history exist.

So does the pain I carry from childhood into adulthood. This crisis has brought some of that pain back to the surface. His responses now are affecting a relationship that already has a complicated history.

Hearing “I’ll think about it,” followed by “prove it,” while trying to help my mother get the care she wants has left me angry, hurt, and deeply disappointed.

I have been passionate in these conversations. My mother’s care and happiness matter to me, and I haven’t had many quiet feelings about either.

I also still live in the house my parents co-own. I go back there after visiting my mother, attending recovery meetings, going to dialysis, watching a movie, and doing the other things that make up my life.

My routine hasn’t changed much.

My connection with my father has.

Since hearing “I’ll think about it,” I’ve had less to say. I’ve been less engaged. I’m trying to live in that space while being honest about what I feel and what I can give.

I Still Believe in Showing Up

I meant what I wrote in my earlier post.

I believe in visiting people in hospitals and skilled nursing facilities. I believe in calling, listening, and making time for people, especially older people who may have fewer opportunities for connection.

I believe God created us to be in community with one another. We need people. We need conversation, care, and the experience of knowing someone remembered us.

I also have limits.

I cannot do all the work of maintaining a relationship. I cannot create mutual care by myself. And I have to be able to sleep at night with the choices I make about who receives my time and energy.

Right now, I am showing up for my mother, listening to what she wants, and working toward her next step. I’m also continuing my recovery, taking care of my health, and figuring out what boundaries I need with my father.

None of that feels particularly tidy.

But it is open and transparent.

I’ve heard how money can divide a family. Experiencing it myself has made me painfully aware of how closely money and control can become connected—and how much damage that can do when someone needs care.

Time is the one resource I know I will never get back. I want to spend mine helping my mother live the life she is asking for, while taking care of the life I’m responsible for, too.

Today, I want my mother to know that I hear her—and that I’m taking her wishes seriously.