Even though the tears have mostly dried up, at times the sadness envelops me and I feel that dull ache of emptiness. I often remember the mountaintop days of February 2020, and I’m astounded at how much I took for granted.
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On their wedding day, Mom and Dad, like most young couples at the altar, made promises to each other. They committed to being faithful; to love each other “in sickness and in health…’til death us do part.”
They kept those promises for 64 years.
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When it’s all over, I want to remember how strange, different, and in many ways how beautiful, life was in 2020.
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Once again, I find myself searching for the light. As a writer, I feel called to shed light and hope on situations that confound. But what should I do when I feel confounded myself?
As a person born into White privilege and with limited exposure to racial diversity, I find myself wanting to do something, but asking, “What? What can I do?”
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For most of our lives we think of family as a top-down arrangement. Parents and grandparents care for children. Grandparents advise parents. Older siblings watch out for younger ones.
But at some point along the way, this structure shifts and what feels like the natural order of things flips upside down. As our parents age, we begin to care for them.
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I’m trying to wrap my head around the idea of becoming a grandmother. It won’t be long now.
I imagine cradling that little bundle, my own son’s child. Beyond that though, I can’t really imagine becoming “Grandma.” Will I know what to do? Do I have what it takes?
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…While I’m learning to adapt, my heart goes out to parents with children at home. They’re feeling pressure from all sides. Working parents are now work-from-home parents. Or, working parents whose kids have no place to go. Or, unemployed parents with financial worries. In addition, they’ve become homeschooling parents. And with more people at home, their household management duties have expanded to another nearly full-time job. As if the pressure of a global pandemic is not enough, parents are loaded down with extra work and responsibility.
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I wonder what good stuff I'm missing when I’m not paying attention.
During this unprecedented pandemic, we would all do well to pay attention to the good stuff. To put our devices and media and entertainments away and listen. To place productivity on pause and pray. To lay our anxieties and fears aside and practice mindfulness instead.
There is good stuff happening right now.
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As empty-nesters, we’ve been forced to give up the lives we had grown accustomed to. Gone are the days of simple meals for two, lower grocery bills, quiet evenings, empty guest rooms and uncluttered hallways. We now run the dishwasher once or twice a day instead of every other, find an empty coffee pot by mid-morning, and have given up our “assigned” chairs at the dinner table. Our empty nests have been interrupted.
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Today, the 26th of March, was the day we would have boarded a plane for our dream vacation to Ireland and Scotland.
Obviously, that is not happening.
Just three weeks ago, our youngest daughter was studying abroad in Ireland and my husband and I were planning a grand trip to visit her. I busily mapped out our itinerary and made hotel and Airbnb reservations.
Then came the rumblings of a pandemic.
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Whether our days are too slow or too fast, too empty or too scary, the change has been sudden and shocking. And more than a little unsettling.
How do we adapt when the tempo of our lives has changed so drastically? When the mood has gone from happy and buoyant to melancholy and ominous?
I don’t have the answers.
But I have noticed in difficult times, people turn to music.
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Being an empty nester has its perks. For one, when your kids live across the country you have a good excuse to travel. For another, when you arrive, you have your own private chauffeur to meet you at the airport.
Such was the case on our recent trip to Austin, Texas, a city we’ve had the privilege of visiting twice since our son moved there two and a half years ago.
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Two years ago, when we entered the empty-nest stage, we suddenly had all the time alone that we had once dreamed of. But even with all this time alone, we’ve discovered it still takes work and intention to keep the love light burning.
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Even in our monochromatic weekdays, I believe we can find golden rays of light gleaming down on us. And when darker clouds roll in–depression and sadness, broken relationships, unfulfilling jobs or difficulties at work, sickness and death, news of gun violence, natural disasters, and deadly viruses–we have all the more reason to look toward the Light.
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We are sisters. And sisters care for one another. They laugh together. They listen and advise. They hold each other up when life gets hard.
But is it always rosy? Of course not! We’re still sisters, after all. And sisters have history.
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Whether or not you’ve followed our earlier episodes, I hope you’ll take a moment to sit down with a bowl of popcorn (or Gummi Bears, Junior Mints, etc.), and catch this latest blockbuster! Trust me, there’s no need to review, or even know the characters, and you’ll find the plot easy to follow.
So here goes…(cue Star Wars music).
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...
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May I dance at your recital? Is that acceptable? I mean, if your teachers and professors and supervisors knew what I knew, if they had seen what I’ve seen, I think they’d dance too. Or at least they would understand if I got up and danced, right?
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I have a “November” binder at work. It’s full of speech and language activities with an autumn and Thanksgiving theme. This time of year we always read “I Know an Old Lady Who Swallowed a Pie.”…And we always play: “Would you rather?”
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