Alone and lost at sea
I am battling the flu and feeling a bit despondent today. Although I am rarely too ill to work, when it does occur it puts me down on my back. Fair warning; If you don't want to start the day on a down note, stop reading (hey, no one is perky all the time).
For years, I have been concerned about the absence of contact between my children, grandchildren, and me. I don't mean the dearth of telephone calls or written correspondence. It is a different time now and a segment of today's young adults and those new to parenting simply do not place any importance on nor see the long-term relevance in the value of family cohesion. No, I am concerned about the lack of a physical connection, a direct emphasis upon one another and the family unit.
Changing families
I know that it is easy to buy into the convenient argument that because we reside in disparate locales, the children simply cannot find the time to visit. Let's face it...they don't live in Djibouti or Myanmar. This never seemed to hinder my children's mother and me; despite living a few hours' drive from each set of parents, we regularly visited. Society hasn't changed to the point that our jobs were any less important to our well-being as they are to today's young parents.
Even when we lived clear across the United States, we had them as guests each year and then returned the visit. We could not properly define it at the time, but just knew it was important to hug, chat, argue, break bread together, let them bond with our children, and help them with things they could no longer do well because of older age. We instinctively knew that our dads were not the strong men they once were, our moms sorely missed the broods they reared, and that they all had to cope with the physical limitations and illnesses that come with aging. We and they knew we were needed.
At times, we did this even when we had opportunities to engage in more interesting or fun things to do. Besides, instead of "pay it forward" as is popular today, we considered it paying back; honoring those who sacrificed so much of their lives for our benefit. One of my children lives three hours away, the other two only 50 minutes, yet since they set out on their own all those years ago I rarely have had the pleasure of their company, barely know my own grandchildren, and they me.
Essentials for the sake of continuity
Now I know what may be going through your minds at this point: this guy must be evil, a monster, a tyrant, a thug. My goodness, if any of that were the case I wouldn't be writing this because their neglect would be justifiable and therefore make perfect sense. I have had more contact with my ex-wife than I have had with our children! No, the fact is that thinking along those lines is yet another enabling ploy to excuse one's action, or inaction.
If you don't enjoy the parents' or grandparents' company, are distant or estranged from them for some reason, you still must never deprive yourself or your children of the opportunity to know them. My own father was saddled with some very serious social and familial faults; my mother-in-law had a mean and spiteful streak that occasionally surfaced to my detriment; yet the goodness of their hearts and love of family earned them our assistance whenever possible, the opportunity to know and embrace their grandchildren, and ultimately our forgiveness.
Most family service professionals agree that grandparents serve as significant influences in their grandchildren's lives, and that regular contact with one another reinforces a high value for family connection. Simply stated, grandchildren exposed to such contact are less fearful of old age and the elderly, and feel more connected to their families. By the same token, grandparents need to feel part of their children's and grandchildren's daily lives.
Easy, sometimes convenient, to forget
As children toil through the daily grind of raising their own families, it is easy to forget that their parents invested a great deal of time, energy, emotion, physical health, and finances into embedding a moral compass, teaching right from wrong, instilling compassion, how to be a good citizen, and the value of knowledge. There are physical and emotional bonds that are so strong, their fierceness is inconceivable to children until they mature to a point where they themselves are afflicted.
Yet another side to this are family stories, an oral history of who you are and from whence you came. Although some may think otherwise, my children and grandchildren have little clue as to the intimacies of the people who came before and thus helped set the stage for who they are. I worry that after my passing, all of the lore stored within me will be lost to them. It seems criminal to deny yourself such knowledge that would help you better understand yourself — and your children understand you.
Photos of my children and grandchildren smile down on me whenever I walk past; that is as much as I see of them. It is distressing to be able to accurately gauge the infrequency of contact by the age of the photos. As a family slowly fragments for whatever reason, from divorce, argument, past effects of alcohol, or drug abuse, we discover to our dear cost that we have lost the comfort of each other and support through difficult times with mutual honor, thoughtful actions, expressions of affection, quiet deeds, and prayer.
As the passing of my beloved Irene taught me, absence will someday be permanent; the opportunity to express all of the things you should, take back those words you should never have uttered, and the ability to share and celebrate life with those you love will be lost forever.