When Pakistan’s team lost to India in the Cricket World Cup last weekend, I briefly considered calling my dad in Texas to commiserate.

When former President Donald Trump was convicted on 34 felony counts, one of my first calls ought to have been to my father.

I didn’t call either time.

He doesn’t like to talk much on the phone anymore, and the vast majority of our conversations over the past few years have been about his ailments and how poorly he feels.

After my father got diagnosed with cancer during the pandemic, his entire focus shifted to his illness and subsequent health problems. Earlier this year, we noticed the symptoms of his Parkinson’s worsening. He takes pain medicine for neuropathy.

He went from a young 77 before the pandemic to a very old 81 today.

I thought the transition to my parents getting old would happen so gradually that I would hardly notice it.

That’s not how it happened at all. I think it stunned him, as well.

I dread hearing about his pain because I feel helpless to do anything about it. That’s an uncomfortable feeling for the eldest child of immigrants, who grew up learning to solve problems for my family.

When I was a child, my dad would talk to me about current events and politics. We’ve argued passionately about many subjects. We would watch football together and rehash big sporting events. He told great stories about his work and his upbringing in Pakistan. He wasn’t the easiest person to live with growing up, and his age and health issues have made him even more difficult at times. But I’ve never doubted his love for me.

Our best connection has always been found in lively and deep conversations.

I miss those talks.

It feels selfish to even admit that, given that so many people lose their parents at a far younger age, or never get to develop a positive relationship with them. My husband was in his early 20s when his father died. He tells me I should go visit my parents more often. Others who have walked similar journeys with their elderly parents tell me to work on my patience and acceptance -- to think of ways to change the subject when he dwells on negativity for too long.

I’m working to accept that my relationship with my father may look very different in the years ahead than it did before he got sick. His mobility is limited; he doesn’t like to leave the house much. His hands shake, and the pain medicine frequently makes him tired. The main news in his life comes from the steady stream of doctors’ appointments.

I find myself doing weird calculations these days. I looked up the average life expectancy for Asian American men at age 65. (Once you make it to that age, your life expectancy is calculated differently than it is at birth.) The latest U.S. Census data suggests men in this demographic can expect to live to 85. My father’s side of the family all have longevity in their genes, so normally I would have expected him to easily surpass this number.

But none of his parents or siblings had cancer. That’s a wild card. Plus, the Parkinson’s.

Of course, no one knows how long anyone will live. But the averages suggest that I might only have a few years left with my father. I travel to Houston roughly three times a year, so how many visits with him do I have left? How many hugs, how many conversations?

Even writing these words brings a lump to my throat.

Whatever time we have left, I am still searching for ways to make it count.

When many of today’s parents were kids, making friends required proximity and opportunity.

We gravitated toward those who lived nearby or attended the same schools we did, and who liked to do the same things. If we were lucky, casual interactions turned into friendships that supported and enriched our lives.

For today's kids, however, the widespread use of technology and the lingering impact of the pandemic have significantly reduced these kinds of interactions. Not only are opportunities for spontaneous friendships more rare, but many kids have little experience navigating new or potentially awkward social situations. It’s not surprising that young people report higher levels of loneliness and social isolation -- conditions that contribute toward worsening mental health outcomes.

U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy recently described the youth mental health crisis as the “defining public health issue of our time.” Suicide is the third-leading cause of death in people aged 15 to 24, and is rising sharply for certain demographics, along with increased rates of depression, anxiety and loneliness.

Friendship is key to our happiness: Forming social bonds is crucial for healthy human development and positive mental health. But it’s not an intuitive process for everyone. Children have to learn self-regulation and emotional skills in order to develop social competence. They also need real-life practice using these skills.

It will take multiple strategies to address this social problem -- from improving access to therapists and doctors to reducing the conditions that cause childhood traumas. A preventative approach should also include taking a more proactive role in nurturing friendships and positive social bonds -- things that we might take for granted.

One promising program, the Teen Connection Project at St. Louis' Wyman Center, teaches high school students how to make and maintain healthy relationships with one another using a trained facilitator and an evidence-based curriculum.

Eric Hillgren is the project's director and currently runs a 12-session program at University City High School. Students taking physical education or health classes can sign up for the optional weekly sessions.

Hillgren described an activity from one of the classes. As a group, students brainstorm an inventory of “emotional masks” -- ways in which people present themselves that are different from how they actually feel. For example, a person wearing a “spectator” mask watches and observes people silently but wishes someone cared to ask what they think. A “joker” may act silly or goofy to hide their true emotions. A “rebel” may act like they don’t care about fitting in, but they actually do. Someone wearing a "chill" mask may be using an unbothered appearance to conceal the tough things they're dealing with.

After creating this type of list, the students anonymously write down one of these masks they have used or seen others use. It’s a way to safely share their experiences and recognize how common these behaviors can be among their peers.

“They are learning that masks can be a barrier to connecting with others,” Hillgren said. Each session includes ways of breaking down these barriers and establishing trust among the students. Interestingly, several students who participate in the program will ask if they can take part in it again, Hillgren said. In addition to making stronger connections with one another, it builds confidence in their communication abilities and empathy skills.

The Wyman Center offers the program, training and resources for free to any schools across the country that want to replicate the Teen Connection Project. Providing these kinds of social and emotional learning opportunities in schools can help address some of the root causes of increasing loneliness.

The society we’ve constructed for young children -- one in which we are all connected to our devices and driving them from one structured activity to the next -- makes in-person interactions significantly different than what we experienced growing up.

While the way we form connections has changed, the need for friendship endures.

Menopause is having a cultural moment.

A growing number of influencers, podcasters, celebrities and entrepreneurs are talking openly about the experience leading up to and following the end of menstruation.

Selene Yeager, 54, has built a large community of women looking for reliable information around these issues. She co-authored “Next Level: Your Guide to Kicking Ass, Feeling Great, and Crushing Goals Through Menopause and Beyond,” hosts the podcast “Hit Play, Not Pause” and writes the “Feisty Menopause” newsletter.

“The overwhelming response has been incredible,” Yeager says. She says women are always telling her “You saved me” or “I thought I was alone.”

As an athlete, she noticed her body changing rapidly, including muscle loss, as she got closer to menopause.

After interviewing several doctors and specialists and reading scientific studies and medical journals, she made significant changes to her diet and exercise routine. She added heavier weights to her workouts, made some swaps in her diet and began using vaginal hormone therapy and the herbal remedy ashwagandha.

She encourages her readers and listeners to look at this time of life through a more positive lens. It’s a time to take stock and reflect about what one actually wants in life.

This means advocating for one’s health in a medical establishment that may dismiss our concerns.

Many women are unaware that a cascade of symptoms related to the decline of estrogen can begin as early as our 30s. More commonly, a range of menopause symptoms -- including hot flashes, interrupted sleep, joint pain, loss of libido, brain fog, hair loss, weight gain, anxiety and depression -- arrive in our 40s.

Kate Colton was in her late 30s when she noticed she was having her period more frequently. Her gynecologist did a checkup and said everything looked normal. By the time Colton was in her mid-40s, she was having hot flashes, difficulty sleeping, anxiety, joint pain and missed periods. She realized her symptoms had to be related to menopause.

Her ob-gyn prescribed a low-dose estrogen patch, which alleviated some symptoms, but anxiety and fatigue still plagued her. She sought a functional medicine nurse practitioner, who gave Colton a testosterone cream -- but also wanted to lower her estrogen patch dosage.

Then Colton, now 47, found a doctor who specializes in treating peri- and postmenopausal women. That doctor adjusted her treatment to her specific needs.

Since then, she says she has felt considerably better.

“No wonder people get divorced or leave jobs in midlife,” Colton says. “You feel miserable.”

She knows many women suffer needlessly for years.

“This is a midlife health crisis,” Colton says.

Dr. Becky Lynn, a gynecologist certified by the North American Menopause Society as a menopause practitioner, says the vast amount of misinformation and conflicting information about how to treat peri- and postmenopausal symptoms is often overwhelming for women.

Dr. Makeba Williams, gynecologist and director of midlife and menopause medicine at the Washington University School of Medicine, said she has treated patients who have spent more than $10,000 over the course of their menopause transition before coming to see her. Her research focuses on disparities in care and on the experiences of African American women going through menopause. A review of 20 years' worth of literature found that African American women report more severe symptoms -- for instance, hot flashes and night sweats that are more frequent and last longer -- and are less likely to get treated for them.

William is on a mission to let women know that better and more effective care is available to them.

“You do not need to suffer and have diminished health during this period of time,” she says.

Thanks in part to heavy marketing, the use of estrogen therapy for menopause symptoms took off in the mid-1970s. Demand skyrocketed, and Premarin, a brand of estrogen treatment, became the No. 1 prescribed drug in the United States by 1992.

Some studies began to challenge the effectiveness and safety of hormone replacement therapy (HRT). A study conducted by the Women’s Health Initiative, launched in 1991, was prematurely stopped in 2002 due to safety concerns: Researchers noted a small increased risk of breast cancer, heart disease, stroke and blood clots among women taking combined HRT.

That was a watershed moment: Physicians backed off from prescribing HRT, and many women became afraid to ask for it. Practitioners stopped teaching medical residents and students how to safely prescribe hormones.

But menopausal symptoms did not magically disappear.

Instead, an unregulated “wellness” market rose to fill the void. A lucrative cottage industry has sprung up selling untested and unregulated treatments to women who are desperate to feel better.

Subsequent critiques of the WHI study have challenged the initial headline-grabbing takeaways. Lynn points out that the data, when broken down by age, revealed a window of opportunity when women could still benefit from HRT.

Now that the culture around menopause is beginning to change, the medical establishment needs to catch up.