I'm an only child and I live far away from my mom. I'm already stressing about long-term care as she gets older.

I’m 31, and my mom will be 70 this year. We haven’t had the talk yet — the conversation about what our lives will look like when she retires.

To make this more complex, I’m an only childand we live in different continents. She has often joked that I should float her out to sea when she gets older. Not knowing what the next decades of her life could look like, and, by extension, my involvement, makes it hard for me to plan my future.

Our differing values and plans for the next few years have taken us physically and emotionally farther, further making a shared idea of her retirement fuzzy.

Living in different countries makes planning harder

My mother lives in the US, but I haven’t lived there for 10 years, and I only visit for a few weeks a year. I don’t plan to ever live in the US, and she doesn’t plan to leave her home. It’s a difference that I think will only get harder to reconcile as I get busier with work and she becomes less able or willing to travel.

She already views the flight from Florida to Italy (where I spend much of my time) as too long and prefers to travel in countries where English is widely spoken. Living far away currently also means it’s hard for me to see day-to-day health changes and know the details of her medical appointments. It’s harder for me to also practice transitioning into her caretaker.

Since I’m her only child, she hasn’t remarried, and she doesn’t live near her siblings — many responsibilities will fall to me.

We talk about retirement, but nothing changes

The lack of planning is one of the biggest issues. I’ve brought up the idea of retirement many times over the past few years, and encouraged her to travel with me to practice a different lifestyle. We have talked, but there hasn’t been any action. Some of her ideas that haven’t materialized include: getting a big house with friends, going to Italy for language lessons, taking painting classes, moving to a country with cheaper healthcare, or working less.

She currently works 40 to 50-hour workweeks — often on weekends and holidays (not because of money). She has no concrete plans to stop. I’m not even sure if she will retire at all

I encourage her to take up a hobbybuild a community, take a day off, or meet a friend for lunch during the week. These are met with resistance. I suggest these things in hopes that in 10 years she will be happier and healthier (and selfishly hoping she’ll need less care).

Losing my father changed how I think about aging

After losing my father unexpectedly in his 60s, I have a fear that things could quickly change for the worse. That’s why I want to plan now, while my mother is healthy — and can make these choices for herself. After losing my father 10 years ago, my mother has chosen to live alone and has expressed a wish for that to continue (possibly another hurdle to face in the future if she needs intensive care).

My partner’s parents retired in their 60s and keep busy gardening or visiting friends. I’m grateful they’ve taken clear steps and had conversations with their children about the next chapter of their lives. I hope my care plan for my mother can one day mirror some aspects of those relationships, while finding a happy medium.

I know my relationship (like all) with my mother is unique, and we’ll eventually find a compromise. I’d just like to get some practice in before there’s an emergency. I also want the care I give her one day to align with what she wants from me.

We all have very different visions for how we want our retirements to look, but I am afraid I’ll one day get a call that I need to move back to the US. Afraid that my mother will be forced to live a life with me she doesn’t want, and afraid to lose the life I’ve spent the last 10 years building. After many years of a strained relationship, I’m worried we’ll feel like strangers cohabitating one day.

I hope one day she can see I’m just trying to plan for her future, like she did when I was a kid.