Am I the asshole for refusing to take care of my elderly parent now that my sister moved away? That’s the question that’s been haunting me every day since the last family dinner exploded into a mess of guilt, blame, and tears.

My mom is 76, mostly independent but starting to decline. Nothing extreme — just the usual signs of age: forgetfulness, slower movement, mild confusion. Enough that she probably shouldn’t be alone for long stretches.

For years, the unspoken agreement was that both my sister, Rachel, and I would help as needed. We live in the same city — about 30 minutes from Mom’s place — and we alternated visits, errands, and doctor appointments. It wasn’t exactly balanced, but it worked.

That changed three months ago.

Rachel got a job offer in Seattle — across the country — and took it. Just like that, she packed up her life and left. When I asked what would happen with Mom, she said, “You’ll figure it out. Maybe hire someone.”

No conversation. No plan. No transition. Just… you’ll figure it out.

At first, I tried to manage it. I drove to Mom’s every other day, helped with groceries, handled her insurance paperwork, and coordinated appointments. But with a full-time job, a partner, and two kids under ten, I was burning out fast.

After two weeks, I called Rachel and told her I couldn’t keep doing it alone.

Her response?
“You’re just being dramatic. I’m not there, so it’s obviously on you now. That’s just how families work.”

When I pushed back, she accused me of being selfish — that I was punishing Mom for aging. I lost it. I told her that she doesn’t get to abandon responsibility and then judge me from a distance.

Then I made the decision: I called my mom and explained that I couldn’t be her primary caretaker. I helped her apply for home care services and offered to visit weekly, but I wouldn’t be the one holding everything up alone.

She cried. I felt like the worst person alive.

Now, Rachel has started texting our extended family — spinning the story that I “refuse to take care of our poor mother,” and that she’s heartbroken and neglected. A few aunts and cousins have reached out, gently (and not so gently) shaming me.

My partner says I’m right to set boundaries. That my sister made a choice to prioritize her career and I’m not obligated to fix everything alone. But I still feel like I’ve failed — not just my mom, but some invisible test of what it means to be a good child.

So here I am.
Am I the asshole for refusing to take care of my elderly parent after my sister moved away?