Learning to carry each other

Peter wrote a moving post on his site about caring for an elderly neighbor who was taken to the hospital this week when she fell and broke her shoulder and arm. She’s been in intensive care, and Peter has been caring for her cat, visiting her, following up on her medical issues, and trying to round up her family, who seem content to keep their distance and let a “stranger” tend to their mother.

His post raised the question: Who will be there for you on the day you go crashing to the floor?

It struck a nerve because on Sunday as I went through addresses and wrote out Christmas cards, I was overcome with tears over all the family members that I’ve lost or lost touch with. My dad was the oldest of eight children, but all his siblings are dead now. I’ve continued to send cards to the spouses they left behind, but I haven’t heard back from them in years. I have only one aunt remaining, on my mother’s side. My parents and one sister died when I was still in my 20s.

I have about 40 first cousins, but only have contact with a few of them, usually at Christmas. I’ve lost touch with some of my grown nieces and nephews over the last five years. I have more than a dozen great nieces and nephews, most of which I’ve never seen and who probably have no idea I exist. One of my sisters has only made contact with me once in the last three years—sending a Christmas card.

For years I worked hard to keep far flung family members in my orbit. I wrote letters, sent e-mails, made phone calls, mailed Christmas cards, shared photos, hosted reunions, and never forgot a birthday. It took a lot of energy, and sometimes I was hurt and disappointed when my efforts to maintain our ties failed. After I turned 40, I made a conscious decision to let go of my expectations and accept that some relationships were simply over or not going to be close ones. I resolved to put my energy into the relationships that were bearing fruit in my life and cherish the broad circle of friends that have become like family to me over the years. They are what my life is all about.

When Peter asked, “Who will be there for you on the day you go crashing to the floor?” I had to admit that I don’t know. I have a husband, I have children, but there are no guarantees that they’ll be there when I need them.

All I know for sure is this: When the people I love hit the ground, I plan to do everything in my power to help get them back on their feet,  or at least let them know that even when they can’t stand, they’re loved and not alone.

November 29, 2007

Comments

[Lynn]

I'll be there to pick you up and hold your hand and feed your cat. You may have to wait until I can get up to you but I'll try to help!

[furiousBall]

my parents taught me a very good lesson on this topic. both my mother's mother and my father's father (funny how that worked out) were brought into their home when they couldn't take care of themselves any longer on their own. it's a tough task, harder than caring for a child, and emotionally tougher at times too. but yes, i'm with you - we carry them when they fall.

[V-Grrrl]

Ditto, girl. There's a reason my kids call you Aunt Lynn. : )

[Di]

You have the kiwi contingent. You haven't lived (or been ill) until you've had Sahara stroking your forehead with one hand and trying to quietly talk you into playing hide and seek so that mummy and granma can't hear.

xo

[Claudia]

I just want to buy one of those medic alert necklaces so I can yell 'I've fallen and I can't get up' - like the elderly lady in the commercials. Or was that 'where's the beef'?

[Expat-CIT]

I think about this often, since our move to Belgium is in its final phases and I am leaving a very small, interconnected community where I am surrounded by family and friends. You know, the kind of place where if you have a family tragedy, the casseroles start rolling in. It's like a big security blanket that's warm, fuzzy and so tattered from wear that you know you have to give it up and move on, but you can't quite bring yourself to do it. I believe with all my heart that there are wonderful places, friends and adventures waiting for us - but of course there will be trials as well. There will be days that each family member will crash. This will be test of our family's fortitude, but I pray we will hold each other up and come through the transition richer and better people.

[mamatulip]

I can relate to this post...this fall I've really struggled with the fact that my mother's family is pretty much gone and my father's family is small. And as I've tried to maintain relationships and friendships with family and friends that were important to my mom, some of them haven't been met with the same enthusiasm. Like you, I've had to accept that some of them weren't meant to be.

I feel the same way as you do, though...I'll be there to help whenever needed.

[Lynn]

Tragic case of something similar is unfolding here at my school - the father of a student I taught a few years ago was found shot to death at his home yesterday by a friend. He was found after several days because she hadn't heard from him in a while. He's divorced, has 4 kids but none live with him or that close by. So, we don't know if he fell and couldn't get anyone to help pick him up or if he died instantly. Scary.

[Lynn]

Claudia, that medic alert necklace saved my grandmother's life - she had a stroke, was able to call for help with that and was picked up by an ambulance. We're all really grateful she had bought it!! So, yeah, let's all get one!

[V-Grrrl]

Oh Lynn, how horrible. Just so sad all around.

[Nance]

So hard to think about for some. I feel so incredibly fortunate to have close siblings. Not just in proximity, but in relationship. We have a wonderful tolerance and understanding for one another, and we just seem to be able to be there in such specialized ways. We all have our own little niche in which we can "plug in" when we're needed. Believe me, we are all always grateful.

[V-Grrrl]

Proximity makes a huge difference. I don't have any "issues" with immediate family members but my siblings are scattered from Maine to Georgia and have been for decades. Once my parents died, we no longer had a central place to draw us "home" or my mom acting as a switchboard to help keep us in touch with the day-to-day of each other's lives. My brothers stay in touch via e-mail, one sister writes me real letters a few times a year, but we go years without seeing each other which makes it hard to stay closely connected.

[wendy]

I have a feeling I will rely on the kindness of strangers.

[simon]

Living in another country from most of your family doesn't help, I know.
If I were back in the UK I could count on my parents, my brother and sister. On the other hand I have cousins who I could pass in the street and we wouldn't recognize each other.

I too try to maintain ties across distances through email and cards, and I occasionally lose patience with people who can't even write me one line to let me know that they're still alive. I stop writing for a while. Then I start to miss them and my resolve crumbles and I start writing again. And they act as if nothing happened (or make some half-hearted apology, explaining that they're "not very good at keeping in touch", as if it's some kind of skill to be learnt...

[Tonya]

If you are like me, I find that in our family the ones who move away (how dare they!) are the ones expected to keep in touch. Sometimes it makes me mad - I wish they would visit me for once!
I have many friends I never hear from either. I decided that this will be the last time I send Christmas cards if I don't hear back from them. : (
I like your idea about focusing on the friendships that are bearing fruit now. : )

[wordgirl]

I hope we've raised our kids to be compassionate and responsible, though as you said there are no guarantees. My elderly aunt is mostly being tended by her sister (my mother) even though she has three grown children and many grown grandchildren...most of whom never even come by to visit, let alone participate in her care. It's very irritating to me because it lets me know that not only do they not care about their mom, but they also don't care that they're dumping their responsiblities on my mother. It's just wrong.

[littlepurplecow]

When I pull out the Christmas cards and my aging snail mail address book, I think about the strength of ties that keep me connected with grammar school friends, high school friends, great aunts and cousins far away. Some grow stronger while others weaken. But it does feel good to connect at least once at Christmas each year. Even if I don't get a response, I envision the recipient smiling at the site of the my envelope in their mailbox. But that decision to let go... to be okay with it... is a good one.

[impy]

My 17 year old sweet, but definately male son has said already "You have to go live with Callie mom". That is his 14 year old sister. He swears she'll be the nicest to us. I'd rather we be independent til the very end, but if I need anything I know who to call! I just drove a co-worker to a regional psychiatric hospital two days ago, as ordered by the court to decide competency. He's the "handyman" at our local non-profit community action agency where I work. Think Forrest Gump, and you have a pretty accurate description of this sweet man. His family has shunned him completely. He had no one to take him the 40 miles to the hospital. The last time he saw his sisters, was when they arrived in our office to inform him he needed to sign off rights to the family farm after his father passed away. They did this the day after his fathers funeral, and he learned of his fathers death that day. Their way of saying "hey Dad died Ron". He had no chance to attend the funeral and cried for days at work. I ended up with his apartment keys, car keys, mailbox keys, and on his paperwork as a contact for his social worker after sitting with him through the hour long admission process. None of which I intended. I will accept the responsibility though, because my mother taught me to treat people as you would hope to be treated yourself. Pay it forward as they say, and I care about him.

[V-Grrrl]

When I was in college, a friend attempted suicide. Just a week earlier he'd been a guest at the New Year's Eve party I'd hosted at my house, and as they always say in stories like these, he seemed fine.

His family was very frustrated with him and wouldn't come see him in the psych ward. I went there every day while he was a patient, stepping into a world where sneakers didn't have shoe laces (strangulation risk!) and everything I brought in to him had to be inspected. I had to beg and plead on his behalf to see if the medical staff would let him wear a watch. It had belonged to his late father and he needed it, he just needed it on his skin, needed that connection to his dad. I went to the police station to try and get the police report on his suicide attempt and they gave me the runaround. My friend couldn't remember exactly what had happened the night he tried to kill himself and worrying about the sequence of events didn't put his mind at ease. He had to appear in court.

After he was released, I visited him in his apartment a few times. He wasn't one of my closest friends, just someone in my orbit. The last time I saw him he said, "I'd do anything for you." At the time, I knew he would.

Sadly, this is one of the many people I lost touch with. He earned a bachelor's and master's in psychology, but last I heard he was on a list for a liver transplant; he'd contracted hepatitis. I have no idea if he ever got his transplant. Attempts to contact his mom went unanswered....

[Peter]

I can perfectly relate to the often expressed experience that family bonds offer no guarantee that care will be provided when really needed.

Much like yourself, I tried to stop investing in all those one-way relationships that leave me with an empty feeling. Focusing on the relationships that create a sense of community really is the only way to go.

Basically, it's all common sense, but I know how hard it can be when close relatives don't even bother to pick up the phone anymore.

Mrs V called me from the Stuivenberg hospital in Antwerp: the surgery went just fine but she is very much aware she still has a long way to go. "Is my picture online?" she inquired. "Well," I replied, "it only takes 5 seconds to make that happen" ;-)