Rahm Emanuel said, “Never let a crisis go to waste.” When Mom fell and broke her femur three years ago, the hellish aftermath required that she sell her house and move. Although I worried about being blamed if she ended up unhappy, I lured her to my neighborhood, hoping proximity to grands and great-grands would perk her up. It took a few cranky, difficult years for her to settle in, but now she’s happy most of the time, in spite of nagging discomfort from the injury.
Last weekend, Mom drove over to visit with my grandkids. I was surprised at how long she stayed, considering it was crazy, and she found herself commandeered to work. At one point she was helping the two-year-old use a baby scissors, and I was on the other side of the room, reading to the four-year-old.
At lunch, we had hamburgers around the dining room table. When the 2-yr-old was done, Mom wiped a smudge of catsup from his precious face. Then she wiped both of his little starfish hands, and impulsively kissed one. He giggled.
Later, Mom was helping Big Sister at the kitchen table with Play Doh, while I helped the Little Guy with crayons and stickers. Both kids got one-on-one attention, and I like to think they’ll remember these happy times.
Mom has become the matriarch of our family.
At 89, Mom is filling the role of Matriarch. When the babies are around, she visits and helps, throwing herself completely into the work. Besides her role as greatgrandmother, though, her role has even expanded with the adults. She has become a mother figure to my sixty-something cousins who’ve lost their parents. When Bill’s sister died suddenly, Mom came over and comforted him.
Mom exemplifies what psychoanalyst Erik Erikson called generativity, a necessary stage for healthy adult development. Generativity refers to the concern for establishing and guiding the next generation. It is said to stem from a sense of optimism about humanity.
Sometimes she gets sad, thinking about her own mother who remained in North Dakota while most of her brood moved away. Every few years there’d be a rendezvous at Grandma U’s little house in Dickinson. It would fill with mothers and kids. Grandma U., who lost her hearing in old age and spoke only German, still managed to convey unlimited joy and love.
How hard it was for Mom to leave her mother at the end of those visits, knowing that for the next year or two, communication – in those days before Internet – would be severely limited. Grandma U. died years ago, at the age of 82. Now her daughter, my mom, is almost 90, and enjoying every chance to wipe a little face, or kiss a tiny hand.
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I loved this, Lynne. Your mom epitomizes what life is all about …connecting to the others gives our lives meaning. She exemplifies generativity and looks like she passed on that value to you.
Thanks for your kind words, Pat. We are lucky to have her!
I sent this one everywhere. Purpose. What more be said? Nice. I especially keyed into what your mom did for Bill. Special talent. An attribute of older or has she always been that way?
Thanks, Bob. She’s always been a really caring person but since Dad’s death, she’s had to figure out what her purpose is. I almost wonder if God gave her this time to reconnect with herself. She needs to be of service. That’s her happy place. She has found a new way to do that in giving comfort to and being present with not just her own children but the children of her deceased siblings. What a woman.
It is obviously contagious.
Back atcha.
So sweet and wonderful. I’m going to share a link on my blog.
Reading this brought back some tough memories of being with my mom towards the end of her life. I lost both my parents in 1989, a few months between each of their deaths. That was the hardest year of my life. While my dad was in a home I flew back to North Dakota and stayed with my mom. Even though it was such a hard thing knowing my dad was near the end of his time, my mother and I shared so much during that week on a one to one basis and I will be glad to the end of my life that I was able to be with her. So enjoy every moment that you can. I enjoyed your story, Lynne. It is not hard to read how much you love your mom.
Judy, how hard that must have been for you. A person is tempted to say it may have been a blessing that both your parents passed so close together, relieving the survivor from suffering on alone. But that is no comfort to you at all.
My father was a hard man to be married to (59 years!), and Mom, although she loves and misses him to this day, experienced a kind of freedom after his death. She has come into her own these past 7 years since he died. Isn’t life amazing?
Sometimes I think it may be a good thing for some woman that they live longer than the men. I had an aunt that never did anything until her husband died and then she traveled all over the world and enjoyed herself so much. she told me one time that that was her education as she never even got to finish high school because she had to help out on the farm. Hope all is fine with you. Judy
How wonderful it must be to “witness” your mother in this role! My mom died two months shy of her 62nd birthday, and although she had the opportunity to “greet” each of her grandchildren “on this side”…she died soon after the youngest one was born.
My paternal grandmother was available to be a “great grandmother” to our sons when they were very small…but a stroke “stole” the last few years of her life. She spent long days and I am sure longer nights in a nursing home bed only able to speak repetitive monosyllables.
When we would visit her, our older son would climb up into her bed with her, and one day after she had attempted, unsuccessfully to speak with us, he said, “I know what Grandma is saying.” We got very quiet, barely able to breathe not knowing where our 4 year old was going with this “conversation.”
He said, “Grandma is saying that she loves us!” She nodded her head vigorously saying, “Na, na, na, na, na…” She felt “understood.” It was an amazing moment.
Fortunately for our sons, my husband’s parents were actively-involved, hands-on, attention-giving and available grandparents. They lived long enough to see our sons graduate from high school…but not long enough to attend their weddings or hold great-grandchildren.
They were also blessed with a baby sitter who had enough longitivity to attend their weddings and greet their first-born children.
Matriarchs and patriarchs…the elders of our tribes…generativity…something to look forward to. Such an important and vital role…very much worth taking care of ourselves in the hope that we can “be there” to “wipe little faces and kiss tiny hands” for our great-grandchildren some day.
Sue, I am sure the 4-year-old “heard” her. What a moving story, and it confirms the value and richness the elders add to life. You paint a picture that most of us, I think, identify with. We love and cherish the older people in our family. Yet when you open the lens to take in all of American culture and society, those same older people become less valuable in some way. I think we don’t often consider the contradiction between the anonymous view and the one you paint so beautifully.