How do I love my aging parent when there's old pain between us

Mirabai's devotion wasn't naive. She loved in the presence of loss, contradiction, and grief. She didn't wait for perfect conditions. You don't have to either. The old pain is real—it doesn't dissolve because someone gets older. But something shifts when you stop expecting this relationship to heal what it broke. That expectation is its own kind of control. Instead: love what's actually possible now. Maybe it's presence without depth. Maybe it's showing up and not requiring them to understand why you're showing up. Maybe it's grief alongside care—holding both at once. Mirabai understood this. Her devotion was fierce *because* it didn't depend on reciprocation or resolution. Visit. Listen. Set limits if you need them. But notice if you're still trying to get them to see you, acknowledge you, become different. That's where your exhaustion lives. The practice is: love them as they are, not as the parent you needed them to be. And love yourself enough to not disappear in the trying. That's the examined heart—seeing clearly what is, grieving what isn't, and choosing to show up anyway.