My mother was my best friend. As a young wife and mother, I went to her endlessly to complain about my then-spouse....how he wasn't helping with our child or with the inside home chores, even though we both worked outside the home full-time. For a long while, Mom's response to me was, "What makes you think you are any different than the rest of us?" What she meant was that it was always thus for women and probably always would be.
But things were different for my generation. Raised by the Greatest Generation's dreams that their children have more than they had, we Baby-Boomers were the first to have the contraceptive pill; the first to have legal abortions; the first to have women who went to college to have careers before/while they had children; the first in which women faced high divorce rates which demanded the careers to support themselves and their children; and the first during which couples recognized that, in order to have all of the things that their parents had achieved through their hard work and sacrifices, both husband and wife would need to be working. I struggled with it because I was raised with one set of values but was living with the new ones. In a sense, I resented it. We were on the cusp of change, not an integral part of either generation's values. What I wanted was to be a stay-at-home mother like my own mom. What I got was the need to work, even though my husband made good money. It seemed we were always in credit card debt. With a child to care for, I felt that going back to work after maternity leave was a major complication of life. Now I had a house and housework, a baby, AND a full-time job. I wasn't one of those women who wanted it all.
In spite of everything, there were values that I just came to know as part of what was right in life, and the main one (for me) was that family came before all. I didn't know much of my father's family. He grew up in poverty as the youngest of nine kids. His parents both died before I was born. His sisters and brothers had scattered, and I do think he distanced himself from them because he was working hard to make something of himself. My mother's parents, however, took him on as their very own son, and he was as much a son to them as anyone could possibly be. Wherever we went with the Navy, we always came back to the family farm outside of Streator, Illinois. Home. After the war and Navy years, we were never more than three hours from there. At the last, we were within an hour-and-a-half...and then my parents retired to that farm when it was their turn.
And then it was my turn. As a young married woman/mother, I could never imagine myself being far from my folks. Holidays and special occasions were always spent at the farm, shared with my parents and the rest of my family with traditions and love and good times. Generally, we never lived far away. In my then-husband's last position in Illinois, we were only 25 miles away. Things happened. We moved to Indiana, a scarce ten miles from his parents, but still only four hours away from my own. He and I split up. Meg and I moved to Plainfied, IN, still within four hours of home. Then she grew up, got married and had babies. Never in my wildest imagination did I think I would ever be far from her or my grandchildren. I would never move out of reach of them and never thought that they'd move away from me.
I was wrong.
First, they relocated to Muncie, Indiana. I cried for a few days but since Muncie is only 90 minutes up the interstate from where I live, I managed.
Then her marriage broke up. She and the children moved in with me, unannounced. We eventually remodeled the house to make bedrooms for everyone.
Not long thereafter, she met the new love of her life, and--in a poorly handled set of circumstances--gave unannounced and immediate custody of the children to their father and drove off to California where she married her new beau. That threw me into a serious depression that I never really got over. I wept constantly and some days didn't even get out of bed.
The children were still in Muncie for awhile. I was allowed to have them about one weekend a month. That worked. In the meantime, I also was the flight escort to take the children to California to see their mother and stepfather a couple of times a year.
Then, the children's family moved to the northeastern suburbs of Chicago where their stepmom had procured a nice position with Carthage College, and their father found work that was right up his alley. They rented and eventually bought a really nice old house in Zion, IL, near the Lake Michigan lakefront. The drive up was four hours in good circumstances. For awhile, I was still allowed to have the children for a weekend about once a month. And then my daughter and son-in-law relocated to the northeastern suburbs of Chicago also, just to be close to the children. And they were. They didn't miss the multiple soccer games or band concerts or school programs. They were THERE, where they should have been all along, and it soothed my heart to know that things had come full circle. All I had to do to share in their lives was get in my car and make the four-hour trip, which I have done on a regular basis for the last few years.
In another string of circumstances this past year, both of my grandchildren have gone back to my daughter's custody. And my son-in-law's parents have come from Russia to live with them all. That latter part hasn't worked out well. Now, in a quest to earn a higher salary, my family is moving back (without the Russian grandparents) to the West Coast...to the Seattle area. This has been a whirlwind of activity and decisions--so much so that I have trouble thinking clearly about it all. Too much to think about, too soon...too many changes in such a short time. They will be coming for a quick Christmas here only to fly off into the sunset and leave me feeling lost in their absence.
I can't throw my stuff into my vehicle and drive four hours for a visit. I really can't even do airports any more without major support, due to health problems. If I'm lucky, I might get to see them a couple of times a year. When Denis (my son-in-law) first broke the news to me, I think my response was, "If you are expecting me to jump up and down and say that I'm happy about it, that isn't going to happen." He wanted to know if I had questions. Yes, I had a million questions, but every one of them came from my feelings of the unworkability of it all...for me. I was totally aware that the decisions had been made...that my questions wouldn't change a thing...and that the train was leaving the station, one way or the other. Thus, I have retreated into my little lost world. I don't ask much or expect much. As they say, it is what it is.
Beyond the obvious, I am upset by the fact that soooo many people have children who get married and move away. They manage. Why can't I?? I posed that question to my co-grandparent, Phil. His response was that other people in my situation have spouses, and maybe that's why I feel so alone. I think he's right. It wasn't my plan to be this alone this late in life. I'm also not receptive to taking on a spouse!
The other issue that has come up is whether or not I could move with them. Well, yes I could, but I have a home full of "stuff" that needs to be disposed of and things to be worked out. Housing out there is expensive. I'm not sure the kids could afford a place that would have room for me, and I'm quite certain that I could not afford a separate apartment. Still, I'm not ready to say no. I'm just ready to say that I'm quickly getting to the point of figuring out how to get from point A to point B as best I can.
I'm doing the best I can to accept life as it is handed to me. I'm not sure anyone totally understands how very much I adore my daughter and my grandchildren, and how proud I am of "our Denis". Giving them up to another life is hard, ain't it hard, ain't it hard....
If you are a praying person, I would appreciate your putting up some pleas to the Almighty to get me through this. If you aren't, a few positive thoughts in my direction might help. I just want to get through this life with all of my fingers and toes intact, hoping for the best. Right now, I'm just lost.
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