A friend of mine has been managing care and end-of-life-life for a family friend who passed away recently. As her power of attorney and “point person” on all things essential for the past several years, my friend has been carrying a heavy, all-encompassing, emotionally challenging load. It is thankless work. He managed her finances, caregiving, medical and legal needs — problems that could never wait, issues that were not one-time quick fixes and frustrations that I’m sure elicited thoughts of “wtaf, why me?” Having been in his shoes, I know helping someone in this way is maddening beyond measure. And yet, there he was today, writing her obituary in the most comprehensive, loving way — asking for my input.

It took me back a few years to the way I felt when the geri-person I was helping passed away. I wasn’t even sad. And I couldn’t recall one nice thing about this person. If I had to write her obituary at the time I would have submitted a ripped piece of construction paper with angry black Sharpie hashes bleeding through the envelope. I hated everything about what I’d been through with this person. I daresay, I even hated her. And I was utterly, completely relieved.

I told my friend I was sorry for his loss, and wondered if there was some relief in her passing.

He said there was. And unlike mean old me and my callous, unrepentant heart, he explained how he could “now start reflecting on when she was great and at her prime. There was a lot of good stuff overshadowed by lack of preparation and her overall decline. It’s good to get back to that.” Man, that is some serious grace.

I would love to have the same kind of reckoning one of these days, but I’m not there yet. I still harbor icky resentment for my geri-friend and that clouds all the good and happy memories I (think I still) have of her. Terrible, right? I could torture myself into thinking I should become a redeemed, more decent human being, but instead I’ll answer my own question: yes, it IS terrible. Terribly NORMAL. I’ve heard enough people with the same story to know this truth. These geri-relationships and situations are all so complex and different and emotionally unresolved. Sure there are bright spots and yes, caregiving/management is usually based on a foundation of love and moral imperative. But it’s never easy. And sometimes it sucks so badly and is steeped in so much muck, the best thing a person can do is to just look away.

My friend’s recent situation reminds me there’s one common denominator, though: the way we live our lives — the good, the bad, the ugly — becomes our legacy whether we like it or not. Luckily, we have control over how we are remembered if we can dedicate ourselves to realistic planning, healthy communication and acceptance of our mortality as we approach our senior years. If we don’t, all those good things that defined us may become big, violent Sharpie marks on a blank sheet of paper.