Finding purpose where it matters most

Today, my son turns 25. He’s my third out of four — the one who’s given me the most gray hairs lately, if I’m being honest. Over the past few years, he’s been searching for his place in the world, cycling through careers like trying on ill-fitting jackets.

He lived in the UK for two years chasing adventure, completed two separate professional programs, and yet each time came back home with the same uncertain look in his eyes. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t frustrating at times. As a parent, you watch your children grow, and you imagine a future laid out neatly before them. It’s hard to stand by when it doesn’t unfold the way you — or they — had hoped.

Meanwhile, life here at home has its own challenges. My father is now 90. His sharp wit and stubborn spirit are still there, but physically, time has caught up with him. My brother, who is blind and has developmental disabilities, lives with Dad. They can’t really be left alone anymore, not safely.

And this is where my wandering, searching son surprised me. Without fanfare, without complaint, he simply stepped up. He moved back in and now spends at least 50 hours a week taking care of them. Cooking meals, cleaning the house, sorting out medications, helping with bathing and dressing, making sure my father and brother are never without company or a steady hand to guide them.

But it’s what’s happened beyond the chores that’s truly moved me. Over these past months, my son and my father — nearly 65 years apart in age — have become best buddies. They laugh together in the kitchen over poorly flipped pancakes, watch old westerns side by side, and share quiet cups of tea on the porch. My father’s stories of his own youth, of hard times and triumphs, have found new ears eager to listen. And in turn, my son has discovered a kind of purpose no degree or diploma could give him.

Sometimes I’ll come by and find them deep in conversation, or catch my son gently guiding my brother by the elbow across the living room. In those moments, I realize that while he may not have found a career he loves — at least not yet — he has found something arguably more profound: the chance to be needed, to love and serve his family, to build memories with his grandfather that neither of them will ever forget.

So today, on his 25th birthday, I am more proud of him than I can possibly say. Life doesn’t always go according to the plans we draft in our heads. Sometimes it takes unexpected turns, brings us home again when we thought we’d be far away. But watching my son with his grandfather and uncle, seeing the tenderness and loyalty he offers so freely — it’s clear that he is exactly where he is meant to be right now.

And that, in its quiet, unglamorous way, is something extraordinary.