I've always been an old soul. As a child, I preferred the company of adults, liked to use big words and attempt to discuss politics. As a teenager, I found myself drawn to fashion and music from the 20's, 40's, and 50's--a "condition" that continued into my adulthood.
However, now comfortably jammed in middle age at 36, I often times feel 50 or 60 or 70. I guess it's because I had to move up to the 'front line' much earlier than most people my age. My mom used to call it that: the front line. She saw the various generations in a family like soldiers during the Revolutionary War: The front line would stand shoulder to shoulder, a protection against the lines behind them, and get off as many shots as they could before they fell. Then it was the next row's turn. A nice, gory description to give your child about the circle of life and one generation's duty to the next, eh? (I have always liked picturing myself in a 3-cornered hat and brass buttoned waist coat though :) )
Having lost my dad at 4 and my mom at 30, and then all but one grandparent in the following years--the first two protective lines in front of me fell much faster than I thought. I always pictured myself helping my elderly mother pick a pants suit, take her to have her hair done, then to pie at Marie Callendar's--all the while letting her hold my arm for support. She'd reminisce, I would listen, enjoy her company. I never expected her to die at 63, when she could still take stairs at a full sprint with a grandchild on her back.
Then, last night, I received a phone call from my last remaining Grandma--who is technically only my step-grandmother (my grandpa's third wife after the first died of diabetes shortly after my mother's birth and the second was hit by a train), but the only one I've ever known. She is 90: a cheerful woman, slow to complain, independent. She lives in the next town over and I try to take the boys and visit her every month but hadn't been yet this month due to a crazy schedule and fighting a cold.
She must have missed my visit, or just been in a reflective mood, because--in her cheerful way--she had "just called to ask if I would say something at her funeral." She knew I was "busy and such," but all her children keep moving to other states and she wasn't sure who to ask. She also wanted to send me $100, just because.
Way to grab me by the heart!
So much in that request and the reasoning behind it. My grandpa, her constant companion and best friend, has been gone nearly 6 years now and I know she misses him terribly. The sadness in devoting all her years to her sons, only to have them be distant. That way she tries to live and enjoy life, but has reached the point where it has become more about waiting to die.
And then the pressure on me to try and somehow make it right, because I'm that front line now. No parent to put it on. No wiser sources to tap. I AM now that one, the "strong one," that both the old and young look to for direction, protection, guidance. It has forced me into a position I know most of my friends won't reach for another ten or twenty years. It's both emboldening...and isolating.
I appreciate I'm gaining this pool of wisdom I can share with others about how to handle situations like these eventually; but also feel like I'm constantly making it up as I go along, desperate for someone else to come take some of it from me. I'm not ready to learn about burial plots and IRA's and changes in wills at the same time I'm still helping with Kindergarten homework.
I can't even fire a Nerf dart straight, let alone an 18th century musket, but I will take a knee and do my best here at the front line. I will do all I can to make those people dependent on me feel safe, even if I don't always feel so myself. And pray, one day, that when I'm old and planning my own funeral (you better believe there will be interpretive dancing and ska music), that there will be people there for me, willing to do the same.
Now, let me tap your pool of knowledge: Any of you who are also on the front line...how do you do it?
5 comments:
:-) Pray often and follow your gut. That's how we tackle life. My grandmother turns 91 next month. She's also all about waiting to die. She's reluctant to plan anything, because she JUST CAN'T live much longer. She's been this way for years now. She is one of my very favorite people ever. It used to be hard to hear her talk about the end of her life as if that were the next big goal she's pursuing, but I've come to realize that part of why she talks that way is because she's worried that WE won't be prepared, and she's trying to make it easier on us when she does leave. Now we can joke about it.
I never thought that at the age of 37 I'd be the only person responsible for three boys. It never occurred to me that I would be responsible for my grandmother's health and well being. This isn't what I thought the thirties were going to be like. My mother is still alive, but she's got her own life and responsibilities. Once a year she takes me to dinner. Every three or four months we go shopping together for one reason or another. Basically, she's like a friend, but she's not a mom who jumps in and helps. I've had to let go of that hope and suck it up and move to the front line.
There's a lot of joy in being the responsible one now. WE get to make the rules (remember when that was just a dream?). WE get to make the budget and prioritize spending. Responsibility can be scary, and it can be tiring, but it also provides opportunities for experiences you wouldn't have otherwise. It's nice to know that you really CAN handle it all. Some days you wonder how that is, but the important things get done. I am stronger, wiser, funnier, and more empathetic than I ever would have been at this age because I have so much responsibility. There have been some hard knocks in my life- and I would never choose to lose my father or my husband- but the person I am is different because of the things that have happened. I like the person I am. You like the person you are. Who would we be if life were easier and there were other people standing between us and the real responsibilities we have chosen?
Jennifer, I miss my grandparents terribly. I love adopting older people in my ward and neighborhood, and going into retirement homes to sing for them. They need us, and I need them. Keep smiling, keep shooting. You're great. Tiniel
GREAT Jennifer, GREAT.
Jon
I've thought about your blog for several days. I lost my dad three years ago and I miss him more and more every day. I'm terrified for when my mom dies because I will then be truly alone. Not alone, but an orphan. I'm so sorry you went through that so early.
Jennifer, I've been reading your blog for a while now.... well, off and on since you were still married... so that's quite a while. I never really thought about being The Front Line. But, I suppose that is what people who have lost their parents, sometimes their partners, and are the 'responsible' ones the elders that are left turn to. My friend who is a psychologist tells me all the time that I am the Matriarch, since my mom died. I don't want it, I want my mom, and I'm older than you. But I will take care of my Aunt when she needs me, because her only child is only interested in his own family and the $$ he expects to inherit, I will do what I can for my sister, because she is a single mom, and even though her son is grown, she feels alone and sad a lot. I do those things because I love them, and I would do Anything for them. My friend also tells me it isn't my responsibility.... but I know that as long as I am not making them dependent on me, then I am just helping and loving and serving. I know that probably doesn't help alot, but people at that age need to feel like they can control a few things, perhaps the funeral is one of them. I know I've been given directions. :) Good Luck to you.
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