Moving my 85-year-old mom in with us wasn't an easy decision. But I'd do it again.

• My mother fell and sprained her ankle and stayed with us to recuperate.
• My husband told me privately that she could move in permanently, but I wasn't so sure.

When my 85-year-old mom fell and sprained her ankle, she moved in with us to recover. She didn't like living alone, so being with our family and her two teenage grandsons for a few weeks was a treat.

My husband, from a big Filipino family, told me that he was fine with her staying permanently. I wasn't so sure.

She moved in with us

She was very social — I wasn't. I needed space and knew there'd be no exit strategy once she moved in. But she wasn't getting any younger, and I knew how much it would mean to her. The night we made the offer, she tearily accepted.

She'd be moving from a two-bedroom apartment into a small room we cleared for her. We spent several days downsizing her belongings. She kept some treasured items, such as favorite books and artwork, and we hauled the rest to consignment stores and donation drop-offs.

Our differences started to show

Once she moved in, our differences became apparent. Because I'm a neat freak, my anxiety levels spiked when I'd see three kinds of paper towels lined up on the kitchen counter, next to rows of tomatoes sunning in the window and freshly washed strawberries drying all around the sink.

I was used to having my way with how everything ran. Those days were gone.

After weeks of constantly moving her things to cabinets and then watching them slowly migrate back, we compromised. I learned to live with a bit more on the counter, and she with a bit less.

On daily grocery runs, my mom began to fill the pantry, fridge, and freezer with things my teenagers loved — cookies, chips, ice cream — and make frequent trips to drive-thrus for burgers and chicken fingers. Her sunny disposition made me look like the bad guy for insisting she not do this.

She soon offered to cook dinner twice a week. I moved dinnertime up so that there wasn't much time to snack beforehand and got more specific with grocery requests.

"Can you get one bag of cheddar goldfish and some Oreos?" worked much better than, "Please don't buy a lot of junk." I focused more on what she could do, not what she couldn't.

She didn't want us to travel

When I was single, my mom didn't like me going on trips. Nothing changed when I had a family. After sharing travel plans, I'd be met with silent disapproval, which didn't feel much different at 46 than it did at 16. Living together intensified it.

The problem wasn't that she didn't want to go. We always invited her. The problem was that she didn't want us to go.

I did what I could to alleviate her worry and loneliness. I'd call each night, keep our trips short, and make sure she had plans with friends in our absence. But our family trips weren't going away. Sometimes you just agree to disagree and move on — literally.

She had something to say about everything

My mom was privy to the kids fighting, marital disagreements, problems at work — and she had something to say about all of it.

My husband and I began walking the dogs together at night so we could speak freely and privately. But I also valued my mother's insight and advice; I just wanted to ask for it first. She was a clear thinker and wanted the best for all of us.

She lived with us for four years, right up until the day she died. Though some days were challenging, I'll always treasure our time together under the same roof. It meant everything to her, and it means everything to me now in her absence.