Well, anyway, the other night as I stood over the stove stirring curry for one (Hub was away on a snowboarding adventure), I felt pretty lonely and my mom popped into my head. I could hear her say to me, as she often did on the phone after my dad died, "I get so lonely sometimes." Here's a good example of my lack of compassion and understanding..."Well, why don't you get out and make some friends? What about those ladies at the church?" (My parents moved 4 years earlier to a small town away from the city they'd lived most of their lives in order to be near my brother and his family; they never really made good friends there.) I said it nicely, encouragingly, but still.
I've come to realize that even when one has tons of friends, and I am fortunate enough to have a goodly sum, there is still loneliness at times for the intimacy and comfort of a partner or housemate who is there for you, who brings you joy and companionship without it seeming like an occasion for chatter, laughter, a project to work on, or an event to share.
Then it hit me. My mom and I could have been those friends. We could have been roomies, comfortable together, if life had dealt that hand. Not as we were back then. But as I am now. I figure the me in my 60s has a lot in common with my mom in her 70s. I wish we could share stories of having grown children, being grandmas, go over old family photo albums, write, crochet, sew, clean out cabinets (I'd let her cook and bake...still don't have that in common), watch a little TV, go for a walk, practice some Yoga. (She did Sun Salutations every morning for 20 years or more...before I even cared a whit about Yoga, which is now my passion). All the things I find myself doing now as an empty-nesting, retired woman heading toward elderhood (OK, fine, already there, I suppose) are things she enjoyed too.
I think I miss her so lately because we finally have so much in common. Believe me, I never saw that coming! I think it's too bad I've only come to appreciate my mother in her elder years now that I am an elder too. I was so busy with kids, friends, volunteer work, a career, a big house, a husband. I loved my mom and we got along, but so often I felt we had such differing values and views and goals. Now it's all evened out -- and she is gone. Sort of that Cat's in the Cradle song in reverse, I guess. That one laments a father who missed his kids' growing up years. I am a daughter who missed years of her mother's adult friendship.
Makes me sad on this day set aside for love. ©
At least, that's the view from here....
Great essay! I think most daughters at your age could say very similar things about their relationships with the moms, I know I can. I regret that I never got to tell my mother how much she meant to me, how much she taught and how much I loved her. You just assume the people in your life will always be there..
ReplyDeleteThat's the rub--children don't realize until they get to the age and situation we are. Younger people get irritated with us, as we slow down. You can see it in their eyes, "Hurry up you old broad, you're in my way." I so want to yell at them. 'SOMEDAY--YOU WILL BE JUST LIKE ME!!"
ReplyDeleteFortunately, I am very patient with the physical and cognitive limitations of older folks, including my mom when she began to demonstrate those slowing down traits. My regret is more the impatience I had with her not being like me. It was an arrogant, youthful point of view which caused me to think I had a more sophisticated world view and a more activist do-gooder calling. I don't think she understood me very well and I was frustrated by that. But now I see I didn't really understand her either and the difficulties and challenges she worked through to make a great life for our family. And now my life looks more like hers did in her older years, even with still a lot more social/political/activist/organizational activity.
ReplyDeleteShe understood that impatience you had with her. She probably had the same thing in common with her mother. The things might change around us but these basic human traits are repeated through the centuries in families. .
ReplyDeleteYou are probably right, Jean. My mother certainly had a life much different from her own mother's. And I know she had some regrets about her relationship with her mom too. It's a shame we don't have the insights we gain with age when we are younger, isn't it?
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