Courtesy of Minding Our Elders

Dear Carol: My dad was always a handyman around the house. Now he and Mom are in their late 70s. Dad can afford to hire the work done, but he won’t. I’m afraid he’ll fall off a ladder or something. How do I get him to give it up? —Sally

Dear Sally: You love your dad and understandably don’t want to see him break a bone or cut himself. However, you need to step back and understand what you’re asking him to do.

We all need to have a reason to get out of bed in the morning. For many retired people, there is a drive to continue hobbies or even find new ones. That’s a healthy attitude. Doing his handyman tasks is, in your dad’s view, his job. He likely enjoys it and sees no reason to quit.

My father-in-law had a workshop in his basement. This was his haven. He’d refurbished antiques for decades and was loath to give up that hobby as age took its toll. He dragged himself down those two flights of steep steps to the shop far longer that it was safe, but it was a sad day for everyone when he realized that he had to give it up.

He also loved going out for coffee every weekday morning with the same group of men he’d had coffee with for decades. Often, we knew he shouldn’t be out walking on the ice, but he was determined. I knew in my heart that one reason he got out of bed that morning was to have coffee with his cronies. There was no use pestering him. He needed this activity. He kept up his coffee dates until he was too weak to go outside. After that, it wasn’t all that long before his final stroke took him. These activities were not risk-free for him, but they were essential to his quality of life.

For adult children, there is always a fine balance between wanting to keep our parents safe and standing back and letting them live their lives as they see fit. Try, tactfully, to suggest ways to have others climb ladders and use power tools. But unless he is in a stage of dementia in which he is not competent to make his own decisions, I believe it’s his life, and he has a right to decide how to live it, even when you, the loving adult child, cringe because you fear “the worst.” Ask yourself, what is the worst? A broken bone or a broken heart?