Will Lunch With A Woman Over 60 Ever Be Just a Lunch?

I am blessed with friends of all ages. I have a few friends who are in their 60's which makes them the age my mom would have been, had she lived past 41. Now and then we meet for lunch and I try to be completely present for these moments. I talk about my kids and work; things I struggle with. They listen with open hearts and no judgement. (From what I hear, that is not the way an actual mother would listen, but this I will never know).

They say things like "You are an extraordinary mom," and "your children are who they are because of the mother you have been to them."

I wonder if they can hear the open thud in my heart at the end of these lunches, or if they see the ache I feel in knowing they will return to their real daughters and I will be left behind.

I want to learn to leave these lunches with joy for having the privilege to have women in my life who are my moms age. I want to leave these lunches with gratitude and a sense of blessing.

For now, it takes my breath away that after 23 years of not having my mom, I can leave these lunches missing her as if she left me yesterday.

Perhaps it is because she left a 16 year old 23 years ago. Each time I experience I life cycle event in my life, the loss feels new because in that moment the loss is new.

I remember when my kids were 7 months old and for the first time they started to play together. They were on the living room floor in our apartment in Albany, NY. They were smiling and laughing and started to notice that the "other" was doing the same. Elon found a beach ball and pushed it over to Eliana and she screeched in delight as she pushed it over to Elon. I had my first real moment of joy with my babies (after a long bout of post-partum depression) and so I picked up the phone....to call my mom.

She had been gone 13 years and I went to call her. In that moment it was a new loss. I lost the mom who would have taken complete pride in knowing her grandchildren "found" each other and were playing. I lost the mom who would have noticed I was happy for the first time in seven months. 

In that moment I lost her again.

So when I leave a lunch with my dear friend who is my mother's age, I quietly lose her again as I wonder what lunch would be like with my mom as I approach the age that her life came to an end.

That is why, in the field I am in, we no longer talk about stages of grief. If I were to go through grief like a flight of stairs,  I would have been done long ago. 

 

We grieve as we live, and neither is neat, clean and orderly. 

The life long task, is to own self discovery and notice that awareness (even when painful) actually makes life richer, textured and complex in positive ways.

The challenge is to pay attention to the moments of learning and to continue to go out with my friends over 60, because they have so much to teach me.

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The Death of Expectations

I have been thinking lately about the death of expectations. I do not mean to sound morose. Although as a therapist who specializes in grief and bereavement, we "death people" as I have been lovingly called, are actually quite a hopeful bunch. After all, we get to journey with people on a road of discovery that most just hear of.

The death of expectations is an awareness that the images and ideas of how we thought things should be, are just that, images. Lets face it we all have these images. We hold them for marriage, children, work, friendships, our financial solvency, what kind of woman or man we want to be, our weight, our parents....I could go on. Before we have what we want, we can see the image clearly, right? We can almost taste it, we want it so badly. It is clear in our minds eye. Then one day we "have" what we dreamt about. Time passes and the image is this transparent, often blurry thing we cant get a handle on. We can push our hands right through it and sometimes feel its essence. Sometimes we think we understand what we are seeing, but in a different light it changes and we have to start over again.

Our images of the "should be's" conveniently provide us a nice pair of dark glasses which shade us from the true spirit of others. For example, I must admit, that not until recently did I get that each one of my friends meets me where they can. I can meet them there if I choose, but I can't force them to move faster, work harder or think they should dedicate their lives to me because I am terminally unique. In an effort to have my friends conform to my image of what things should be like, I was not able to see the gifts they had to offer...I was busy squinting and adjusting the picture so it could be the way I wanted it to be. That is exhausting and not terribly rewarding.

I also has this image of what life could be like when I had a daughter. I am not a day dreamer, so I did not lay up at night thinking about pink dresses, manicures and girl days at the mall. But once she was here I did think about how we could enjoy our lives together, talking and connecting with each other on some deep level. I would do better than my mom did with me (please hear Harry Chapin at this juncture),
and she and I would have this great foundation
(the butterflies and doves are flying by now)
so when she was 16 and I was alive to enjoy her, I could have that mother daughter relationship I didn't get to complete.

Did I paint my image clearly?

Can you see it?

OK, now for those of you who know my daughter...do you see the problem here?

The universe does not always provide you with what you want, but rather, often, you get what you need, whether you think you need it today or not. Which is why I have to smile now when I think of Eliana's name. Her name is Hebrew and the translation is: My God Has Answered. That is what her name means. Her name is not, My God Has Answered My Prayers, or My God Has Answered Yes, and it is not My God has answered by giving me all I expected. It is simply My God has answered. The answer is a continuous revelation and learning from a daughter to a mother.

God answered with a little girl whose smile lights up a room.

God answered with a little girl who needs me in her way, on her time, and in her space.

God answered with a little girl who connects on her terms. Very few kisses, hugs, snuggles or conversations. These are my images of how it should be. God did not answer me with that daughter.

And there in lies the death of expectation.

I mourn this.

I see what a typical almost 10 year old girl is like, and that is not who I have. I have pretended that this is ok, because if I did not pretend, how horrible am I?

I lost my mom too soon. I wanted a daughter who I could have the relationship I imagined. Is that so wrong?

I expected it.

Who am I, to expect such a thing? But I did. And now, I mourn the death of this expectation.

And there are those of you who read this who will be outraged because you don't have children and I do. You will curse me and say be grateful for your blessings, you have a daughter. I get that, believe me, that is what makes the death of expectations a mix of sadness and deep shame.

Sadness because I need to let go of the "should be's" and guilt for being sad in the first place, since I have been blessed with this extraordinary child and My God Has Answered.

Best Cuts To The Rescue

This smile says it all. When we think we have made mistake as parents, sometimes our children remind us to extend the same forgiveness to ourselves that we so readily give to them.

I Forgave and She Forgot

My cousin wanted to know if she could show my blog to my 92 year old grandmother. After all, what grandma would not want to read her grand daughter's musings? 

I have a complex relationship with my grandmother. My mom died when I was 16 and I went to live with her. 

Note to parents: Get guardians for your kids. 

If you can help it don't let it be the grandparents.  Even though it sounds good in theory, think about it? You have a grieving child  or teen with their unique needs and then you have a grieving parent who as lost a child too soon. How can anyone's process and healing be honored? I was told loud and clear, in no uncertain terms, that her grief was worse than mine. Period. End of conversation. Where do you go with that when you are 16? No where good. That we have a relationship today is a testament to my ability to forgive and her ability to forget.

So what does that mean for us today? Look, I love this woman. She is all I have left from my mom. 

In order for us to heal from the deep bruises we endured by being slammed together when we were grieving, I do not share my pain with her. I can't. She cannot take it in, and to be quite honest, why should she? She has lost both of her daughters. She can leave this world without hearing my angst about parenting, love, loss and so on. 

Pass on the cute stories about my son, when I cut his hair to short. Share the ones that make you smile and laugh. But when you read one that gives you a sense of how my loss shapes my life day in and day out, please remember that in order for her to live her life she has had to take my experience of loss and erase it from her heart. I can live with that. I have to. 

Keeping My Day Job

Last night Elon asked Alan and I if we could give him a buzz cut. He said he knew what "number" on the razor to use. He has seen his dad do it. It is easy. So we thought, this couldn't be too hard. Alan and I are good at many things. We had a temporary moment of insanity and took the razor in our hands. 

We will keep our day jobs.

We watched in horror as well took this beautiful boy and made him look like a child who had some strange illness that caused bald patches and thick patches of hair to remain. He looked into the mirror and burst into tears. He took a shower and I think I heard him cry in there too. Here he is, three days into the 4th grade, wanting to be accepted, and we gave him reason to be embarrassed and self conscious. The only redeeming part of this disaster was that he wears a large kippah and when he put it on, it covered a good part of his hair. I do not think I ever saw him more enthusiastic to wear the kippah. 

I figured a good extra year of therapy was in store for our boy.

This morning, I got to Eliana. "Please say nothing about your brothers hair." "But mommy..." "No butts!" OK.....off to breakfast we go. Eliana sat quietly, her hazel eyes avoiding her twin brothers head. When he left the room I asked her what she thought. "Mommy, it is real  bad."

My heart sunk.

He went to school. If it was Eliana, she would be right here next to me all day. Fact is, if it was me, I would have not gone to school. But we went. Kippah on head and the promise that he would go to the barber after school so they could fix our mistake. 

I called him after school to see how he was. "Mommy, it was fine. I showed Gideon and Maya. They thought it was cool. I'm gonna get it cut real short!" 

So is Alan. He doesn't want Elon to be alone in the little fuzz that will be left on his head when the day is done. Better him than me. I am too attached to my curls. But thank goodness I have a forgiving and resilient almost 10 year old who has a great sense of humor and knows who to show his bald head to and a great step dad who is along for the ride of his life.