My parents brought a lot back with them from Florida . . .

My family is a mystery. Really, it is. And I know that almost everyone feels that way about their family, or at least they are entitled to. I have never met what I consider to be a particularly healthy and happy family, so I don't even know what that looks like. But I am quite certain that my family is not one of them. Case in point, my Father's sister was treated for cancer for several years, and apparently she now has a clean bill of health. However, while she was dealing with the cancer and its physically ravaging treatments, she developed clinical depression, which she was treated for and dealt with in addition to the cancer. As some experts (and those who have experienced it firsthand) will tell you, once you've been down the often dark and lonely road of depression, even following successful treatment and recovery, it always seems just a little easier to slip down that path again in the future when certain triggers emerge. And apparently that is what has happened, following my Aunt and Uncle's recent move from their longtime house in Virginia to a retirement community in a different part of the state.

My parents tell me that my Aunt is suffering from depression again. She doesn't like the "really old" people that are her new neighbors, and she greatly misses her "girls," the women that she has called her closest friends for many years. She says that their friends just don't call them anymore and she is lonely. Although many in today's world consider retirement communities a necessary evil when people reach a certain age and they need progressive help with taking care of themselves, many others consider retirement communities a waiting room for death. And while I'm sure that it was time for my Aunt and Uncle to make the move (especially since I'm told that my Uncle suffers from some dementia issues himself), it has obviously been very tough on my Aunt.

And really, the saddest part of all of this is that my parents just don't seem to understand. Not that I'm an expert or anything, but I do know that depression is very difficult. And while it's certainly challenging for those around the person suffering, I can assure you that there is no worse a position to be in than the person who is experiencing depression's steely grip. So, now my parents seem to be talking about my Aunt as though she's somehow "broken." Like there's nothing that they can do for her. And that's because my parents just don't understand. They have demonstrated that so many times over the course of my lifetime that I feel very comfortable making that pronouncement. They just don't understand. And they make seemingly no effort to change that.

My Father is my Aunt's only sibling. I don't know if there is anything that he can do or say to make my Aunt feel better. But the sad part is that I doubt he will even try, beyond an occasional email or phone call to her. That's pretty much what you get from my parents.