Multigenerational Grace

The Garden Apartment Dream

When we moved to the foothills of North Georgia—in pursuit of our dream of eventually retiring to the mountains—we looked for a home with a basement suitable for finishing into a beautiful “garden apartment.” That meant it had to have high ceilings and plenty of natural light. Our last home, where our children had bedrooms, had a terrible basement for living. It was more of a cave—7-foot ceilings and rooms that were mostly underground, allowing almost no natural light in. We had discussed the possibility of Alyson’s parents moving in with us, and we saw only upsides to the arrangement:

• They were approaching their 80s and not getting any younger.
• While money wasn’t a concern, they were spending a small fortune on their condo. If they moved in with us, they could save a lot of money without costing us much—how much water and electricity would they really use?
• Alyson has been a registered nurse for 30+ years. I watched her care for my mother during her final months—she was an angel, and my mother said so many times.
• All of us got along fabulously well; I truly didn’t see any potential issues—none whatsoever.
• The long-term benefits that we (not just Alyson and I, but our children too) received from living with my mother were immeasurable.
• The long-term benefits Jean and Charles would gain by living with us would be immeasurable—not just for them, but for us and our children as well. Jean could still drive, cook when she felt like it, and browse the internet to her heart’s content—but when she didn’t feel up to something, we’d be right there.
  • From tech support to budgeting help, Alyson and I would be just down the hall to assist with the details that often trip up older adults. And unlike friends who were living alone or in retirement facilities that never truly felt like home, Jean and Charles would have the comfort of family, the freedom to choose, and the safety net that only comes from being surrounded by people who love you.

Jean was on board from the very beginning. Charles, not so much. He loved his little condo overlooking the park in downtown Suwanee and, I presume, liked his independence.

Moving In—This Time on My Birthday

Regardless, a few months after moving into our new home, we met some neighbors who mentioned that her mother lived with them—in a beautiful garden apartment. We immediately went for a quick tour and were bowled over… as were Jean and Charles when they visited a few days later. This time, our children had no issue when we told them their grandparents were thinking of moving in with us. Plans were put into motion and a few months later—on my birthday, no less—Alyson’s parents moved in with us.

As with our previous arrangement, we continued to eat most dinners together as a family, despite her parents having their own kitchen. They also had a walk-in pantry, laundry room, tiled bathroom, fireplace in their den, and a huge master bedroom—along with an enormous patio off their private entrance. Once again, the bonds were strengthened all the way around.

Life's an Adventure

One big difference between living with Alyson’s parents and living with Mom became apparent very quickly. For several reasons, Alyson and I had grown accustomed to taking short adventures rather than one big, lavish vacation each year. Every few years, we would try to fit in a beach vacation, but more often than not, our vacations were long weekends in new places, usually not too far from home. Sometimes one of us would read or hear about someplace interesting, and within a week or two, we’d be on the road to check it out.

As it turned out, Jean and Charles were all for that, too. So Alyson sold her dream car—a Porsche Boxster, which she had finally bought once our children were grown and she no longer needed a back seat—and bought another minivan. Yes, she traded her Porsche for a minivan so we could haul the grandparents around. Our kids loved that!

Over the next six years, we took dozens of little trips—some at the drop of a hat, others planned well in advance—but all of them filled with fun and adventure. Most took us no more than a couple hundred miles from home, but when the destination seemed worth it, we weren’t opposed to traveling farther.

One of my favorites was the Carter Family Fold in tiny Hiltons, Virginia. It was a place Chuck had always wanted to visit. When he mentioned it one evening, Alyson simply said, “Let’s go!”

Peaceful Ending, Loving Presence

Six years later, Charles passed away peacefully on the morning of his 88th birthday, surrounded by family. Alyson was his nurse, caregiver, daughter, advocate, and emotional anchor right up until the end—in part because he was at home, where he belonged.

Finding Blue Ridge Horizon

Just over a year later, Alyson and I stumbled upon a true log cabin perched at the very top of a mountain—four acres of forested seclusion, with sweeping views that could rival those in Highlands or Murphy, NC—yet only 90 minutes, door-to-door, from the Fox Theatre. It was exactly what we were looking for in our retirement home—a million-dollar view in the mountains without the price tag. But what would Jean think? There was no way we were going to move without a) taking her along, and; b) without consensus.

A scenic and serene home is one thing, but the mountain top was liable to be cold and windy in the winter, the cabin was modest in size, and the setting was far from ideal for visits from Jean’s friends. Though just minutes from excellent grocery stores and even a brand-new Piedmont Hospital, it was still five miles up a twisting, turning mountain road—and that’s before you even reached the narrow, one-lane street the home sits on. (That very road, once upon a time, was part of the original Appalachian Trail!) As much as we loved it, we thought it wasn’t the right setting for Jean at this stage of life.

Saying Yes to the Mountains

We crossed our fingers and brought her up the following day. I think—no, I know—she was more excited than I was! She immediately proclaimed that standing on the back deck put her “Halfway to Heaven.” She went on to say something along the lines of, “This is what you and Alyson have always dreamed of—you need to do it.” As she talked, it became obvious that she was contemplating where she would go.

Ummm—NO—you are coming with us. And there’s no use arguing.

We went back inside and showed her the master bedroom, which was on the main floor. There was plenty of room for her bed, exercise equipment, and her beloved baby grand piano (yes, it’s a huge bedroom for a log cabin!). We would take the smaller bedroom upstairs off the loft. 

Yes—the main floor is wide open: a kitchen, family room, and dining room.  No, there’s not a lot of privacy. Yes—we’re going to make it work. No—this will not be a vacation home. Yes—if we buy this place, it will be our home. We’ll need to sell our current home to make it happen… and yes, you are coming with us. End of story.

I think I saw a tear in her eye.

As you know, since you’re reading this on Blue Ridge Horizon, we did purchase the property and we did move to the mountain. Jean, I think, was the most excited of all of us. It turns out that living on a mountain had been a long-held dream of hers too. She fully embraced everything about being up here: the cool mornings, the gracious neighbors, the fresh air, the peaceful lifestyle, the breathtaking views, and the abundant wildlife (including bears).

A Life Fully Lived

Sadly, it wasn’t meant to last. Jean passed away almost to the day one year after Alyson and I discovered Blue Ridge Horizon, after a short illness. When she learned she had an incurable illness, she asked Alyson to coordinate a final camping trip in her honor. The following weekend, all five of her children—and virtually all of her grandchildren and great grandchildren—spent the weekend with her at DeSoto Falls, just north of Dahlonega.

On Saturday afternoon, she gathered everyone to share that shortly after her diagnosis, she heard a voice that said, “Teach them to die.” In true Jean Dukes fashion, she went on to teach not only how to die… but how to embrace life:

“Don’t worry about how much time you have left. Don’t waste energy wondering what the end will be like.

Just trust that He will take care of you on this sacred journey.

And in the meantime—live your life to the fullest. Right up to your very last breath.”

On Sunday morning, many of us hiked to the falls. Some played in the pool of water while she sat in a chair, blissfully chatting with us. On the hike out, the skies opened up and drenched us—some may have been tears—Jean thought it the perfect ending to a perfect weekend.

Why We’d Do It All Again

Looking back over these years, I can say without hesitation that living together across generations has been one of the greatest blessings of our lives. It wasn’t always simple—there were adjustments, compromises, and moments when privacy felt scarce—but the rewards far outweighed the challenges. In a world where families often scatter and grow distant, sharing a home gave us something rare: daily presence. We didn’t just visit for holidays—we lived real life together. We celebrated, supported, and learned from one another in ways that no weekend trip or Zoom call could ever replicate. In today’s fast-paced, often disconnected world, multigenerational living offered us what so many people are yearning for: deeper roots, stronger bonds, and a sense of continuity that spans generations.