When Wishes Come True

For a long time now, my daughter and two oldest grandchildren have lived far, far away in Texas.

There were good reasons for them going there and good reasons for them staying, but it was a great loss for me as we, my husband and myself, had visited those two grandchildren weekly for 10 years. And then they were far, far away and twice a year visits were the best we could do.

I did what I could to maintain contact - to try to stay up-to-date with their lives but young children are not famous for "chatting" with elderly relatives about the trivia that makes up their lives - the books they read - the clothing they choose - the music they listen to or their hopes and dreams and frustrations. I often fell into lecturing and trying to give them unasked for values to live by.

Now they have moved back to California - but not just to California - but to my town.
My fear is that they have changed and will not want me in their lives. That my expectations of a closer and more intimate relationship with them and my daughter won't be realized. And even as I write this, I realize that it's more than possible but likely.

My life is shrinking down. I have less energy, more pain, tire quickly, less flexibility to change and to encounter the changing world that to my kids and grandkids is a delightful exploration and to me a challenge to keep up.

When did this happen to me? I always swore that I would "stay young" in mind, spirit and openness to adventure, new ideas, new challenges and thoughts. I didn't expect to become an old lady and I certainly didn't expect to be a disabled one.

How we delude ourselves that we have choices. That we can pick and choose from the menu of life. One thing from Column A, two from Column B and nothing from Column C.
Thanks a lot. I often say jokingly that I didn't sign up for this old age and I'm not really joking.

I avoid reading AARP magazine and other magazines geared to aging people, because they, too, haven't figured out that we don't choose to be crippled, in pain, out of energy and out of interest in things that "should" interest us. We aren't all going to climb Kilimanjaro at 80. We aren't all going to do the 10K run or the Polar Bear
swim. Few of us are going for that PhD at 90. What's more I resent those who do all those things! Let alone the implication that I'm a slacker because I don't want to go there. Or that if only I'd do their exercise program, take their vitamins, practice their zen, yoga or brain exercises, I, too will be able to do all of the above, and maybe learn the samba in my spare time.

So, I'm going to have to learn a new way of being - which seems to happen every few years. One that means I can't do the things I'd like with my grandchildren - speak the language they speak - or be their peer. Wait a minute...did I say peer? Well, gee - they don't need more peers do they? They need grandparents who love and care for them and support their hopes and dreams and give comfort when they need it.

I'm glad I had this conversation with myself. I forgot there is a place of me. It's just a different one from what I imagined. But I've learned new roles before, I can do it again.