When your kids start asking about your retirement
My kids have started asking me when I plan to retire.
It's an interesting question for several reasons.
First, it means I have reached a stage of life when it's a reasonable question.
I turned 65 last year and am part of the baby boomer bubble moving through this later-in-life phase of living.
The second thing that's interesting to me is that it's on their mind.
Even if it's in passing, they are thinking about it.
Asking the question acknowledges they are aware I am getting older.
And I'm sure they have more thoughts about it than I might think.
So I asked them about it When I asked one of my daughters for her thoughts on my retirement, she said, "I'm just curious how you are thinking about it." It was an interesting insight.
That's something I could easily overlook.
I'm just living my life.
I don't often pause to inquire how those most intimately connected to me are experiencing my life.
That realization was a small reset for me.
The other sentiment I heard was, "Will you ever stop working?" Another daughter said, "You and retirement don't align in my brain.
Stopping work doesn't seem to be in your mind or plans." She went on to say, "Obviously, work fuels you, but I don't know for how long ...
My wishes for your retirement are about protecting you, as opposed to any desires I might have about it." They just care.
And unless we ask and talk about these later-in-life topics, we don't get to hear their care (and at times their caring concerns).
One of my sons expressed his care by asking, "What brings you fulfillment?" and "What do 'retirement' and 'fulfillment' look like in Allison's mind?" And then he added, "I guess I'm excited for you to have more stress-free moments." Their thoughts prompted reflection in me My kids' comments and insights prompted new reflections for me that might not have come up if I hadn't asked.
For example, I agree with them that the word "retirement" doesn't really work for me.
How would I describe it?
I settled on the phrase "work-life choices." I have choices.
And I know choices are a blessing.
How much do I want to work?
What does this work look like?
How do my wife and family view my decisions about my work?
I also realized that for me, "fulfillment" is a complex word.
YES, work has always fulfilled me ...
AND what does fulfillment look like in the future?
That needs to be part of our family conversations about later-in-life.
I hate clichés.
But life is moving on.
Time is getting shorter.
And so, cliché or not, I need to reflect on both individual and collective fulfillment through this stage of life.
A harder insight was how scary and vulnerable these conversations can feel.
And this wasn't even a deep conversation.
Some of it was through email.
But the reality is, inviting people into your life, even your wife and kids, requires a level of risk and exposure.
And everyone in my family knows that is not a comfortable place for me.
We can all get better at it So, I put my toe in the conversational waters with my kids around "retirement." It was just a start, and I want to get better at it.
Here are a few practice hints that might help us all.
Start by asking open-ended questions: "What are your thoughts on my retirement?" is an open-ended question.
Then keep asking follow-up questions: "What would that look like?" "How would you like to experience that?" You are not trying to agree or make a decision.
You are just listening and learning.
Tell the story of your future: When we tell stories, we stimulate a positive part of our brains that helps us create a shared vision of the future.
Saying "I think we should live in North Carolina with our children and grandchildren" is different from everyone telling their version of the story of your future together.
"I can see all the cousins together, holding hands as they walk to get ice cream, laughing as they jump waves, and talking about the fish they saw at the aquarium." You can feel the story connection.
Engage in the emotions of the topic: It's easy to just talk about the functional stuff, like where you would live or what you can afford to do.
But intimacy and connection are in the emotional-relational space.
When I asked my son what emotions me retiring brought out for him, here was his reply: "I would say there is fear, concern, and sadness that whenever you do decide to slow things down, you might lose some of the spark that has driven you for so long.
I'd be sad if your passion and mental force ever faded.
Maybe it never will." There is a lot we can all learn When I shared my experience with a colleague, she was intrigued.
As it turned out, we had dinner plans later that week, and her 21-year-old daughter joined us because she happened to be in town.
We got talking about the fact that my colleague's husband was about to retire from teaching.
Fresh off my own experience, I turned to her daughter and asked, "What are your wishes for your parents' retirement years?" For 20 minutes, she talked through how her parents' retirement decisions impact her and all her wishes for what this life stage might look like, including the possibility of moving to South Carolina with them.
Her mother was literally shocked.
She had no idea her daughter had even thought about it.
And she was equally shocked by the realization that she had never thought to ask.