LOOKING BACK

           

Perhaps because of the most recent blog post, I’ve been looking back over my life. I remember how my grandma would tell me the same tales over and over when she became older. It wasn’t as if she remembered she’d already told me that story numerous times, but with each telling, it seemed to me that she believed she was telling it for the first time. I wonder if that will happen to me?

          I think maybe one of the reasons Grandma repeated herself was because she was lonely. I don’t remember what her life was like in California or if I even knew. I do know that when she had to move back to Seattle, my parents found her an apartment in low-income elderly housing. It was just across the valley from my house, but about five or more miles to where my parents lived.

          My mom didn’t drive, so it wasn’t like she could visit often. She and daddy did go once a week and take Grandma grocery shopping. Sometimes that trip was combined with a doctor’s appointment, and maybe even lunch out. I was busy being a mother, wife and working outside the home most of the time. Still, looking back now that I’m the age Grandma was when she died, I could have certainly made more of an effort to make her a larger part of my life. True, I always subbed for my parents and always included Grandma when we held family events. Still, Grandma must have been fairly lonely.

    Grandma did make friends with some of the folks in her building. I also believe she participated in some of the various activities that were available. Unlike Grandma, I’m mobile and don’t need to depend on anyone to take me places. I’m still driving and can get there on my own. I also have a fair number of friends with whom I can do things and go places. Many times, these events result in a new experience which I can discuss when talking to my own kids and grandkids.

          So far I don’t think I’m repeating myself too often. If I am, I certainly hope my friends, kids and grandkids would be kind (or would that be mean) enough to tell me they’ve heard that story before. And, when I reference mean, I always felt if I told Grandma she’d already told me that story, I’d be rude and mean.

Of course, now, forty-five years later, I’d love to hear her voice on the other end of the phone. It would be such a genuine pleasure to sit back and listen to Grandma share her memories with me…wonder if at some point in time, my own grandkids will wish they could hear my voice telling stories once again?