SO CLOSE, YET SO VERY FAR

 

          It’s been ten months since I’ve seen my grandson, Xander. Today is his twelfth birthday and I sent him a text. Since he didn’t answer, I decided to call him and did so. He sounds much the same as he did since I last talked to or listened to him. It is so hard for me to understand how his father, my son, can allow so much time to pass by without allowing me into his son’s life. I guess things are different now than they were when I was my grandson’s age.

          When I was twelve or even younger, my life was filled with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. No one asked me if I wanted to have them there, they just were. Sunday dinners were held at the grandparents or our home and any one of the relatives who were available were welcome to attend.

          It wasn’t that I absolutely loved all these different individuals, but more that they were simply there, part of my life. As I aged, I came to realize there were some uncles a niece endeavored to avoid because of the booze imbibed and the unwelcome and inappropriate expectations and/or methods by which these relatives showed their interest and/or affection. I also learned there were some aunties who were far more interesting and supportive than some of the others.

          There were always huge relative gatherings that happened at least once a year or more. Every single person to whom I was related showed up and  participated in the potluck and catching up on the latest news about family matters. I was never asked if I wanted to attend, it was simply expected.

          These kinds of gatherings or reunions have become a thing of the past, at least as far as my own personal family goes. It’s been years since the remaining aunts, uncles, and cousins have managed to meet even once a year to look at each other and share a small bit about our lives with each other. I don’t know why these have become so rare, to the point that they are no longer held. I miss them and believe that my grandchildren’s lives are less rich as a result.

          In my youth, there were stories that were shared during these family get-togethers that wouldn’t have been shared otherwise. These days, those stories and family history are no longer shared and are lost permanently. It’s, in my opinion, so very sad. I know that as I’ve gotten older, there have been times and questions I would have loved to have been able to ask about, but the family that could provide answers no longer exist.

          I find myself wondering if my grandchildren will, at some point, wonder about me or my forebears, but be unable to find an answer to whatever their question might be. It seems to me that the more time passes, the more time we and our family members spend online, the less time and effort we make to share what has come before.

          And, speaking of being online, we all know we can trace our ancestry through one of the available services. I’ve done that myself and that’s how I found my half-brother with whom I’ve developed a great relationship. Sure, once I’m gone, my descendants can utilize these services to look for and trace their ancestry, but it comes as words on paper, without emotion or even context. All the stories I’ve gathered in all my years won’t be included. It’s not just my information either, but the information I’e brought forward from my parents, grandparents and other family who passed before me.

          So, at some point, I assume that any information not found online about me will be almost nonexistent. Rather than a fully developed person, I, and the others before me, will be one-dimensional. This is because as time has passed, we haven’t tried to reach out to each other, to know each other, to share our lives in any way, shape or form. I’m sure my grandson knew who I was when I called this evening, but I know, without doubt, that he doesn’t and will most likely never really know me, his Nana, at all. His memories, unlike mine about those in my past, will be few and far between.

          This idea/knowledge makes me very sad.

HARD TO BELIEVE...SIXTY YEARS...

 ago today, I was on my way to get my hair done so I could be a beautiful bride at the close of the day. If anyone had told me my marriage would last sixty years (actually 53.394 when John passed), I would have found that information completely inconceivable. My reason(s) for that wouldn’t be that I didn’t love my husband to be or that I thought we’d end up getting a divorce, but the fact that sixty years seemed unimaginable at the ripe old age of twenty.

          But the fact is time moved on and so did John and I. True, we had some difficult times, but the fact is the happy outweighed the unhappy (at least for me) by tons and tons. The memories I have of our marriage and family life are filled with times and days and weeks of not only special events, but the simple day-to-day lives we led as partners.

          As of yesterday, John will have been gone for seven entire years now. Somehow, I lost two years of that time or didn’t want to admit just how long it had been when speaking of him to family and friends over the last year. And while I’ve managed to get along just fine without John for those seven years, that doesn’t mean that I don’t miss him. There may be days when I don’t even think of him and others where his absence makes me lose my breath with longing. There are even times when I think he’s just in the next room or asleep in bed with me.

          I thought that as time passed, I would reach a point where I didn’t miss him, where I didn’t want to spend another hour or day in his company, but apparently not enough time has passed. I would give anything to be able to wake up with John in the morning, to stumble into the kitchen and have him ask me to make him a latte too, to feel him walk up behind me and fold me into his arms, to hear him laugh, or even to hear him snore.

          No one told me how it would be once I was alone, how the silence grows and grows, how the house, our home, feels so empty without him. No one told me how difficult it would be to crave those hugs and kisses once freely given. No one told me how empty my bed feels, or my body for that matter, when making love isn’t an option. No one told me how hard it is when it’s necessary to make a tough decision and there’s no one with whom I can discuss the options.

          Before John passed, I used to look forward to the weekends. They were a time for us to do “things.” When I think back to weekends long passed, there are so many that still bring a smile to my mouth, a giggle to my throat or a wish it could be repeated. Now, I dread the weekends. They seem to last way longer than two days, forty-eight hours. Family and friends have their own lives to pursue, so my phone doesn’t ring and it’s rare I receive a visitor.

          Seriously, I thought by now John’s absence would be something to which I’d be totally accustomed, and I do admit that there are times and occasions when I rather like not having to consult him about whatever it is I am thinking about, whether it’s a movie or restaurant choice, a decision about our financial status, or even when to get up or go to bed.

          Still, given the option of having John here to share in my life or to continue as I’ve been doing for the last seven years, I would definitely choose the John alive option.

          Happy Anniversary John, wherever you may be!!!

WELL, IT'S OFFICIAL...

 

I’m in debt for the remainder of my life.

          Today, the technicians completed the installation of my new furnace and heat pump. I used two credit cards to pay off the balance. I could have written a check, but I wanted the credit card points.

          As I wrote in a previous blog, I went to BECU and talked to them about a home equity loan. At that writing, I wasn’t sure the loan would even be approved considering my age, but WOWZA, the approval took barely a week. The funds were available almost immediately. Of course, once I transfer the money to my checking account and pay off the credit cards, there isn’t going to be much left to be available. That’s okay though because I’m used to being poor.

          Unfortunately, there must be some way for various companies to become aware that I’ve gone in debt with a home equity loan. I’ve received no less than two letters, one postcard, four remove three edges to see the contents pieces of mail and two or more phone calls, in the last couple of weeks. These all want me to sign up for a mortgage loan that will pay off the loan when I die, make the payments if I become disabled or….who knows what. I asked my son and he said to just ignore, so I am.

          On my own behalf, I’ve already made one payment toward the repayment of this loan, all to the principal. I gather the first interest payment will come due the middle of September. It’s my hope that I can pay down this loan over time so when I do die, the amount remaining for my heirs to pay won’t be significant.

          I am proud of myself because I did all this on my own. True, my son did look at the bids for the work and agreed with my choices, but he didn’t help with the loan request at all. And, since this was so very easy, perhaps I’ll begin looking at various places I’d like to go…do you think BECU will increase my loan if it's for a trip to Greece…or Italy…or Tahiti…or Mars???

          Have to admit it’s tempting to find out.