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.