This was a discussion topic in a TIAA-CREF forum. I thought some of you might be interested in seeing the comment I just posted:

============

Widowhood was very, very hard for my MIL. Addressing only
the legal and financial aspects, however important they are, are only two legs
of a chair. Health is the third leg, and socialization is the all-important
fourth leg. Without socialization, widowhood can become an ever-tightening trap
of loneliness.

We are family, yes...but we are NOT our parents' friends. Too
many of her friends died or moved away. We could not give her the socialization
she needed to prevent her dementia from progressing too rapidly; nor the sense
of security from an outside world that increasingly became more frighteningly
complex and bewildering to interact with.

My MIL hated being thought pushy or forward. She could not
respond to the general "oh, give me a call and we'll do lunch."

One can try to say, "Look, you have to make the first
move!" But she simply wasn't capable of that: too afraid, too passive. Her
husband did everything for her, and she never learned to do anything on her own
without him. After seven decades, she couldn't change her attitude or her
habits so easily. It was sad, but that was her reality.

My spouse and I had to face reality: we could not, and
refused to, make promises that would eventually be against her best interests. Those
decisions weren't easy for us to make. But she needed what we could not give
her, and we had to acknowledge that. To do otherwise would be unfair to her.

My MIL lived with us from 2006, when she sold her beloved
home, but it was never an optimal place for her. In Nov 2013 she moved into a full-service
facility we had selected after over a year of intense research. She fell in
love with her sunny bright studio, her new furniture, the excellent food (on a
schedule that never changed, unlike how we eat), the wonderful staff, the many
residents who considered her "the young one" - at age 85!

She died unexpectedly last month, March 2015. It is amazing
and touching how many people at the facility, both staff and residents, have
come up to us to say how special she was, and much they will miss her.

It took us a year to find the right facility for my MIL. It
is not something one should contemplate lightly. It is not just what the foyer
looks like, or what the sales reps promise. It involves spending time and researching
everything, from the facility's reputation/state quality ranking/finances/staff
turnover, to how the night staff acts towards residents.

Jumping into the facility nearest to one's home, or because
the sales literature promises everything your heart desires, is like picking a
doctor or lawyer by throwing a dart at an open phonebook. You might be lucky,
but the chances are equally good you might not.

The lesson we took away from my MIL's senior years was: so
many Boomers make the promise of "Okay, we'll never put you in a
home." What they don't realize is that sometimes one's home is NOT always
the best place.

All of us need not only family, but also friends - people
that share common interests, who are willing to discuss today's weather for 20
minutes every morning, to share sudoku games and TV's "Jeopardy"
show. Who can remember the same old songs. Who know what it's like to be old
and a little scared of what the future might bring.

When you think about life as an elder, remember that all
four "legs of the chair" - health, legal, financial, and social - are
equally important. Going early (if 85 can be considered 'early') to a facility
meant MIL was still active and could make new friends, even learn new things.

We are grateful that the last year of her life was one of
the happiest, and that we were right to stand firm and make what was truly the
best decision for her.