You know what’s funny about getting older?
The things I used to think mattered most as a parent (being able to toss my kids in the air, chase them around the yard, carry them on my shoulders) well, those days are long gone.
And yet, I’ve never felt closer to my children or grandchildren than I do now.
It’s taken me years to realize that love doesn’t diminish as our bodies slow down. It just changes form.
And honestly? I think it gets richer, more meaningful. The research backs this up too, which I found fascinating when I started digging into it.
So if you’re in that stage of life where you can’t quite keep up physically like you used to, or you’re watching your own parents age, this one’s for you.
Let’s talk about how we redefine love when our physical strength starts to decline.
1. We shift from doing to being
Remember when showing love meant doing everything for everyone? Cooking elaborate meals, driving kids all over town, fixing everything that broke around the house?
As our energy levels change, something interesting happens: we learn that sometimes just being present is enough.
I’ve noticed this with my grandkids. I can’t run around the park like I used to, but when we sit together and I actually listen (really listen) to what they’re saying, that connection runs deep. No distractions, no rushing off to the next task. Just being there.
The Harvard Study of Adult Development, which has tracked people for over 80 years, found that quality relationships are the strongest indicator of long-term health and happiness. Not how much you did for people, but the quality of your presence with them.
2. We express love through wisdom instead of action
Here’s something I’ve learned: when you can’t physically solve every problem, you start offering something arguably more valuable: perspective.
My son called me last week, stressed about a parenting decision. Twenty years ago, I might have driven over and tried to fix it myself. Now? I shared what I learned from similar situations, then trusted him to figure it out.
This shift isn’t about becoming less helpful. It’s about respecting that our adult children need guidance, not rescue missions. And honestly, they seem to appreciate the wisdom more than they would have appreciated me swooping in to take over.
3. We prioritize emotional availability over physical availability
There was a time when I measured my love by how quickly I could get there physically. An emergency? I’d drop everything and drive across town.
These days, I can’t always be there in person. But I’ve learned to be emotionally available in ways I never was when I was younger and busier. A longer phone call. A thoughtful text message that shows I’m thinking about them. Really absorbing what they’re going through instead of half-listening while I’m doing something else.
The truth is, our kids and grandkids don’t always need us to show up physically. Sometimes they just need to know we’re holding space for them emotionally.
4. We learn to ask for help, and model vulnerability
If you’re anything like me, asking for help didn’t come naturally. I was the one who helped others, not the other way around.
But here’s what’s interesting: when we start needing help and actually ask for it, we give our children and grandchildren a gift. We show them that vulnerability isn’t weakness. That we’re all human. That it’s okay to not be the strong one all the time.
I recently read Rudá Iandê’s book Laughing in the Face of Chaos, and one line really struck me: “When we stop resisting ourselves, we become whole. And in that wholeness, we discover a reservoir of strength, creativity, and resilience we never knew we had.”
I’ve mentioned this book before, but it’s given me a fresh perspective on aging. Asking my kids for help with technology or having my grandkids assist me with heavy lifting creates connection, not dependence.
5. We focus on creating memories over creating experiences
There’s a difference, you know?
When I was younger, I thought love meant taking the kids to theme parks, planning elaborate vacations, organizing big birthday parties. And those things were great! But they were exhausting, and honestly, what my grandkids remember most are the quiet moments.
The afternoon we spent making cookies together (even though they did most of the work). The stories I tell about their parents when they were young. The silly jokes we share. These don’t require physical strength, just time and attention.
6. We transition from protector to encourager
This one’s been hard for me to accept.
I used to think being a good parent meant shielding my kids from every hardship, stepping in before they could fail, making sure nothing bad ever happened on my watch. But as I’ve gotten older (and frankly, as I’ve gotten less capable of controlling everything) I’ve had to let go.
Now, I encourage rather than protect. When my grandson tells me about a challenge at school, I don’t try to fix it. I remind him of the times he’s overcome hard things before. I tell him I believe in him.
This actually aligns with what Dr. William Chopik from Michigan State University found in his research: “In older adults, friendships are a stronger predictor of health and happiness than relationships with family members.” Part of that is because we stop trying to control and manage, and instead we offer support and encouragement.
7. We invest in quality over quantity
I can’t spend entire days with my family like I used to. I get tired. I need my rest. My body simply doesn’t cooperate the way it once did.
But the time I do spend? It’s intentional. No multitasking, no phone distractions, no half-presence while I’m thinking about my to-do list.
Quality matters more than quantity, especially as we age. And honestly, I think my family appreciates the focused attention more than they appreciated me being around constantly but only partially present.
The research supports this too. As Dr. Robert Waldinger notes, “The people who were the most satisfied in their relationships at age 50 were the healthiest at age 80.” It’s not about how many hours you log. It’s about the depth of those connections.
8. We express love through acceptance, not expectations
This might be the biggest shift of all.
When I was younger, I had all these ideas about who my kids should be, what they should accomplish, how they should live their lives. Some of that came from love, sure, but a lot of it came from my own ego and fears.
Now? I’m much more accepting. My children and grandchildren are who they are, not who I imagined they’d be. And you know what? They’re pretty amazing just as they are.
This acceptance (this letting go of expectations) feels like the purest form of love I’ve ever experienced. It says, “I love you for who you are, not for who I want you to be.”
Final thoughts
Getting older has taught me that love isn’t about what you can physically do for someone.
It’s about showing up in whatever way you can, being present, offering wisdom, creating connection, and accepting people for who they truly are.
The strength might fade, but the love? It only deepens.
So if you’re in this season of life, don’t mourn what you can no longer do.
Celebrate what you can offer now: presence, wisdom, encouragement, acceptance. That’s more than enough.
What ways have you found to redefine love as you’ve gotten older?
