As I scrolled through the messages, a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. It soon became clear that the silence had been intentional, a well-meaning but misguided attempt to shield me from an unbearable truth.

My dear father was nearing the end of his life, and I was the last to know. The realization hit like a wave, overwhelming and unrelenting. In those moments, all I could do was plead for time, hoping against hope that he would hold on long enough for me to introduce him to his grandchild.

Irene stood with her mother and her in-laws, a picture of grace amidst a backdrop of uncertainty. The photograph captured a family united, yet fraught with the complexities of life and impending loss. As they smiled on an intricately designed couch, the weight of their silent burdens was momentarily set aside, if only for the camera’s lens.

My beloved father was dying, and no-one had told me.

‘I never got to hold his hand’

I pleaded, begged and prayed for him to hold on until the baby arrived, and I’d fly over.

Irene with her mother and her parents-in-law. Source: Supplied

However, he never got to meet his grandson because he died three days before he was born.

This is the cost of chasing dreams far from home.

I had never felt so much pain and love at once.

Navigating the sandwich generation

And many of us have to do it from afar.

From then on, my husband and I made sure to see our parents every year — or at least every other year.

‘No guarantee of next year’

And with my eldest child on the brink of teenagerhood, I felt like it was the last chance to do it.

Irene, her husband and their two youngest kids welcome Irene’s mother on one of her trips to Australia. Source: Supplied

The kids adapted well to multigenerational living in a new country. They baked, gardened and laughed with their grandmother — living their parents’ value of prioritising family.

As I now know with painful certainty, there is no guarantee of ‘next year’.

Mitigating the fear

It’s obviously not ideal for a couple but we’d figure it out and do long-distance if we had to — whatever it takes to support our family,

Irene says she would consider moving to India with her children to support her ageing parents-in-law if they needed her. Source: Supplied

My biggest fear is not being there when my loved ones need me. That fear already came true once — and the wound still hasn’t closed.

Grief isn’t something you move on from; you move forward with it.

I’ve built my businesses around flexibility — businesses that allow me to travel, work remotely and most importantly, prioritise my family.

Aged care isn’t part of our plan

I want my mother and in-laws to age surrounded by people who know them. In homes where their language, food and everyday comforts are familiar.