Is it weird that I've been thinking a lot about my own mortality as of late?
Nah...not strange given the circumstances I guess.
My maternal grandmother is not well. Hasn't been for awhile now, in fact. We've all known it was building to this...she has been forced out of her home of 30+ years due to needing around-the-clock medical care. Her possessions are starting to get divided up. Plans are being made. Cleaning-out has begun of the home I spent so much time in as a child. A home that, in my child's mind, would stand forever; It would be sustained by all the laughter that was shared there, all the lessons that were taught, all the good-night kisses & apologies made.
It's a hard pill to swallow...knowing that my grandmother and her home, a woman I idolized and love as well as a home I cherish, will be gone. I will retain memories and even possess a few trinkets, but loss is loss. Nothing will soften the blow when I receive that phone call.
My mother just left after a two-week long visit. She received many phone calls concerning my grandmother during her stay. We had many conversations about my grandmother and her situation. I have been nothing if not detached, adamant in my avoidance of all emotional responses. It's a dick move, I know. My mother needs me for emotional support, but I just can't bolster myself to attend to her needs. Their relationship is strained due to my grandmother becoming increasingly bitter, down-right nasty at times, as she has aged. The once hugely successful, gorgeous career woman who excelled in the very male-dominated steel industry, is nothing more than an old woman, crippled by advanced age and poor health.
I love my grandmother dearly, please do not misunderstand. I've seen how a woman who so easily could have taken the traditional route, become a home-maker, instead, fought & excelled & prospered. She was clever and resourceful; Her work ethic was awe-inspiring. She was a stellar example for all career women.
However...
I've seen how her personal life, her relationships with her children and my grandfather, were effected.
Is this why she is now so negative? Is this why she lashes out in anger?
Is this why she almost seems to hemorrhage sadness, malcontent, and despair?
Does she look back on her life and see nothing but time clocks and board meetings? Late nights and early mornings? Does she see the missed baseball games? Missed Mother-Daughter shopping trips? Missed date nights with my grandfather?
Regret is a heavy thing, its weight *if allowed* can crush one's will.
I fear this potential future. A future spent looking back and, in retrospect, wishing that I would have had more tea parties with my daughter, stayed an extra hour at family gatherings, or spent more time being alone...enjoying the silence. My reality is that I have to work. Where my grandmother worked due to selfishness or passion, I work due to necessity Shit is expensive and we are a "single paycheck" family now. Most days feel like they do not contain enough hours. I simply have too much, too many responsibilities needing attention, to always be able to sit down and build LEGO towers with my daughter or read that novel or catch up with friends on the telephone.
I, technically, have three jobs. I have a home. I have a kid.
What I don't have is a lot of free time.
It's a balancing act and some days I fail.
I can count on one hand how many funerals I've attended, how many times I've visited cemeteries. Every time I have walked along the rows, I've found that my gaze is always drawn to the dates etched on the markers. Not the seraphim silently standing watch or the decayed flowers or even the epitaphs command my attention. Always the dates...namely that small dash between them. In my mind, that dash encapsulates that person's entire life. That dash is all their smiles, heartbreaks, sleepless nights, first kisses, and epiphanies.
Only loved ones left behind know how much that little line is worth.
My life is overwhelming sometimes, my tasks daunting at others. However, I do my damnedest to make time for those I love. I don't want my dash to stand for nothing but a hefty bank account and a million missed opportunities
BECAUSE...
Some time ago I came to accept that we all live two lives; Our second life begins the moment we realize we have but only one.
