A Cooler Afternoon with Mom, a Warmer Conversation, and the Ongoing Battle for Boundaries

Today, I'm sitting outside with Mom at the skilled nursing facility. It's about 20 degrees Fahrenheit cooler out here, which makes a huge difference. We're enjoying the fresh air and talking, and I'm doing what I often do: writing as life unfolds around me.

Our conversation has turned to my father, her husband, and what's going on at home.

Sometimes, the conversations you have with your mother aren't just about her recovery or what happens next. They become conversations about the life she's lived, the relationship she's in, and what's missing.

And today, that's where we are.

Another Round with Dad

Last night, my father and I got into it again.

This time, we argued about the outdoor garbage receptacles.

Yes, the garbage cans.

On Thursday, he asked if I had brought the receptacles in from the curb. I answered: Yes, they had been brought in.

Fast-forward to last night.

He asked me the same question again.

My response was straightforward: "I told you yesterday."

He came back with, "I still don't know if they were brought in."

At that point, I gave him my final answer on the subject:

"You can get up and look."

Apparently, that wasn't the response he wanted.

He then told me we needed to be civil.

My response?

"How am I not being civil?"

I'm not refusing to be civil. I'm refusing to be a servant.

There's a difference.

I'm setting boundaries, and apparently, those boundaries aren't sitting well with him.

Show My Belly? No, Just Do the Right Thing.

The conversation continued.

My father asked what he should do. Did I want him to "show his belly"?

For anyone unfamiliar with that expression, he was referring to making himself submissive to me.

My answer was simple.

"No, I want you to do the right thing and give Mom the money she earned."

That's what this is about.

My mother has spent decades working and earning money. I have Power of Attorney over her assets to help manage her finances and arrange for her care. Yet my father has voluntarily declined to share information about her employer's 401(k).

Meanwhile, I'm touring assisted living facilities, trying to figure out what Mom's next chapter might look like and how to pay for it.

This isn't about me wanting control over my father.

It's about making sure Mom's resources can be identified and used appropriately for her care.

I don't need him to be submissive to me. I need him to cooperate in doing what's right for Mom.

Those are two very different things.

Meanwhile, Back at the House...

There's another part of this situation that I can't ignore.

While all this is happening, the clutter at home keeps growing.

I'm talking about junk food, boxes, papers, old medication, and other things creeping into spaces where they don't belong.

It's becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

I'm starting to wonder whether my father is developing hoarding behaviors. I can't diagnose him, and I don't know what's driving the accumulation, but from where I'm standing, the situation is getting out of control.

Things seem to be spreading everywhere.

And before anyone points fingers, let me acknowledge something: I don't live in the tidiest room myself. I'm not going to pretend my personal space belongs in a home organization magazine.

There's a difference, though, between having a messy room and watching clutter accumulate throughout the living space until it becomes a growing concern.

I'm not claiming to have a perfectly organized home. I'm saying that what I'm seeing is becoming a problem.

I'm planning to take some pictures to share in a future post. I want people to understand what I'm talking about, not just read my description and imagine something different.

I'll be mindful to protect personal information in any pictures I share, especially if medication labels or other private details are visible.

The clutter is another layer of stress in an already difficult situation.

I'm trying to help Mom transition to a more suitable living arrangement while navigating a strained relationship with my father. Meanwhile, the house where we both live is becoming increasingly difficult to deal with.

It's a lot.

Sitting Outside with Mom

And that brings me back to where I am today.

I'm outside with Mom, enjoying the cooler weather and talking.

She's telling me about other people at the facility.

She's noticed couples who are working together in therapy. She's seen partners visiting their loved ones. She's watching people show up for one another during a difficult chapter of life.

And I can't help but notice the contrast she's describing.

Her husband hasn't been showing up for her in that way.

At least, that's how she's experiencing it.

He's not there working alongside her in therapy. He's not visiting her or spending time with her the way she sees other partners do for their loved ones.

Instead, I'm the one making the visits, asking questions, touring facilities, and trying to figure out the next steps.

I'm not looking for a medal. I'm her son.

But I can understand why seeing those other couples might bring up some difficult feelings for her.

When recovering from a serious medical event, notice who's there for you. You notice who makes the effort. You notice the people who sit beside you, encourage you, and help you get through the day.

And sometimes, you notice who's missing.

I don't know everything that's happened throughout their 56 years of marriage. I'm not going to pretend that I do.

But I can see what's happening now, and I can hear what Mom has to say.

Boundaries Aren't the Same as Being Uncivil

My father and I are clearly not on the same page.

He wants us to be civil.

I want us to do what's necessary to help Mom.

Those goals shouldn't be incompatible.

We can disagree without being disrespectful. We can have difficult conversations without turning every question into a power struggle. We can work together on practical matters without one person expecting the other to be at their beck and call.

And we can discuss Mom's finances without turning the conversation into a debate about who is submitting to whom.

I'm not asking my father to show his belly.

I'm asking him to help resolve the financial questions standing between Mom and the care she wants.

I'm also trying to establish boundaries around what I'm willing to do, how I'm willing to be treated, and how much energy I can devote to these ongoing conflicts.

I have dialysis. I have my own health to manage. I have recovery meetings, responsibilities, and a life outside the skilled nursing facility.

I cannot spend every day fighting battles that cooperation could resolve.

And I don't want to.

What Happens Next?

For now, I'll keep moving forward.

I'll continue exploring assisted living options for Mom. I'll continue trying to understand her financial resources. I'll continue visiting her and listening to what she has to say.

And I'll continue setting boundaries when conversations with my father become unproductive.

The situation at home is another concern I'll have to address, especially as the clutter continues to spread.

I don't have all the answers.

I don't know how this will ultimately play out.

But sitting outside with Mom today, listening to her talk about the couples she sees working together, has given me something to think about.

Sometimes, support isn't complicated.

It's showing up.

It's sitting beside someone.

It's helping them take the next step, even when that step is difficult.

And sometimes, it's doing the work that needs to be done without expecting applause.

That's what I'm trying to do for Mom.

As for the garbage cans, I think we've established that my father can check them himself.

I'm her son, not his servant.

When Caring for Mom Becomes a Battle of Wills

When I'm sitting here writing posts for the blog, I often keep the Facebook Reels open in the background. Sometimes it's entertainment. Sometimes it's noise. And every once in a while, I come across something that hits surprisingly close to home.

Tonight, it was this Reel:

https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1Gg6CPpZ9D/

As I watched it, I thought, I'm experiencing something similar.

I've written before about my mother and her time in a skilled nursing facility. I've also mentioned that she wants to move into an assisted living facility.

After 56 years, she's had enough and wants some time away.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking about a different kind of change in my own life. My plan is what I call 6+6 — part of the year in the United States and part of the year in Thailand.

But before any of that happens, there are much more immediate decisions to make.

Assisted Living Isn't Free

Assisted living facilities cost money.

A bunch of money, I anticipate.

This week, I'm touring two assisted living facilities. I want to see what's available, understand what they provide, ask questions, and, of course, find out what everything actually costs.

Then comes the question of how to pay.

That's where things get complicated.

I have Power of Attorney over my mother's assets, which allows me to handle her financial matters and use her assets to pay for her care.

There's one problem.

My father has voluntarily declined to provide me with information about my mother's employer 401(k).

And that has created what may become a battle of wills.

Living Under the Same Roof Without Talking

I haven't spoken to my father in more than a week. It might be closer to a week and a half now.

Here's what makes the situation even stranger:

I still live in the house my parents both own.

My room is on the second floor.

Yet I haven't spent much time at home lately.

There has been dialysis. There have been visits with Mom. There have been recovery meetings. And I've been trying to find some fun somewhere in between it all.

Today was the exception.

Today, as I wrote in another post, my body essentially told me that I wasn't getting out of bed.

So I didn't.

I spent the day upstairs.

There is something sad about being in the same house as someone and having that much distance between us.

The Last Holdout

The entire situation is sad.

From my perspective, my father has gradually alienated the nuclear family.

For a long time, I was the last holdout.

I kept trying.

Now I'm reaching a point where my primary concern isn't winning an argument or proving who is right.

It's figuring out what happens next for Mom.

She has said what she wants.

I have two assisted living facilities to tour this week.

I need to understand the costs.

I need to understand the resources available to pay those costs.

And somewhere in the middle of all of this is a 401(k) that I still don't have information about.

So that's where this story stands tonight.

Mom wants assisted living.

I'm preparing to tour the facilities.

I'm thinking about my own eventual 6+6 life between the United States and Thailand.

My father and I aren't speaking.

And we're still living under the same roof.

Families can be complicated.

Money can make them even more complicated.

Add aging parents, caregiving, decades of marriage, Power of Attorney, retirement accounts, and decisions about where someone wants to live, and suddenly life starts producing storylines that even the Facebook Reels would have trouble making up.

Follow along to find out what happens next.

I have a feeling this chapter isn't finished.

The Power of Attorney Is Signed: Welcome to My Real-Life Version of The Traitors

Well, we have an update.

If you read my previous post about caring for my mother, money, control, and family boundaries, you know we’ve had some difficult conversations about what happens next.

My mother has made her wishes known. I’ve been working on making sure those wishes are heard and respected.

Now, there’s a new development:

I have a signed South Carolina Power of Attorney.

Yep.

The paperwork is signed.

The next step?

I need to give my father a copy.

And then we see what happens.

Previously, on NielFlamm.com...

In the last episode, my father and I had some very different views about my mother's money and how it should be used for her care.

When I asked about accessing information concerning money she had earned and saved, I heard:

“I’ll think about it.”

Later, I heard:

“Prove it.”

Well, I didn't exactly set out to turn this into a cliffhanger, but here we are.

The Power of Attorney is signed.

Now comes the part where I hand him a copy.

Cue dramatic music.

This Isn't 90 Day Fiancé

I've been trying to figure out exactly what kind of reality show my life has become.

It's definitely not 90 Day Fiancé.

Nobody is getting a rose, so The Bachelor is out.

I'm thinking we're getting closer to a real-life version of The Traitors.

We've got family.

We've got money.

We've got disagreements.

We've got questions about who controls what.

We've got people wondering what someone else will do next.

And we've got me standing in the middle of it thinking:

How did I get cast in this show?

Unfortunately, unlike reality television, nobody yells “CUT!” and sends everyone back to their trailers.

This is real life.

What Happens Next?

That's the interesting part.

I don't know.

I'm going to give my father Power of Attorney and see what happens next.

Maybe the document changes the conversation.

Maybe it doesn't.

Let’s move forward with figuring out my mother's finances and how her resources can support the care she wants.

Maybe we're headed for another episode.

Whatever happens, my objective remains the same: listen to my mother and advocate for what she wants.

The Power of Attorney isn't the finish line. It's another step in a much bigger process.

Stay Tuned

So that's today's update.

South Carolina Power of Attorney: signed.

Copy for Dad: next.

Dad's reaction: TBD.

And apparently, that's my teaser for the next episode.

Keep coming back to NielFlamm.com/blog because I have a feeling this story isn't finished.

Forget 90 Day Fiancé.

Forget The Bachelor.

Welcome to my real-life version of The Traitors.

Except there's no cash prize at the end.

Just family, paperwork, boundaries, and hopefully doing what's best for Mom.

Stay tuned.

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.