Christmas Cards

There is something about sending and receiving Christmas cards that warms the heart.  I think it is the thought of someone thinking about you.  And I get a little reminiscent and reflect of fond, fun memories of that person, whether writing the card or receiving it.

When I go home at Christmas time, my mom will invite me to look through their card pile.  Sometimes there are pictures or a little note.  Then I usually help my mom to tape them up on the inside of the front door.  It is one way to add to the decorations.

As I was perusing the cards this year, one particular card had a note that did not sit well with me.  Most of the cards were from people that I know, but this one I did not.  There was a question asking if my parents were grandparents yet.  And they continued by saying that having grandchildren is the best thing ever!  It ticked me off.  My first thought was that they must not really know my parents that well.  It felt like salt in the wound, maybe more for my mom and dad.  I felt protective of them and wanted to rip up the card.  But, it was not my card.  So, I put it back in its envelope and did not say anything to my mom.

About a month before that while talking on the phone with my mom, I asked her if she and my dad were disappointed or sad that they weren't grandparents.  My mom quickly and simply said no.  She said no and not to worry about it.  I try not to worry, but the guilt is still there.

Maybe the hopeful comment was more a reflection that if my parents were grandparents, they would be loving, caring ones.

Watching From the Sidelines

It's not just me who sits on the sidelines...

When my parents came to visit, we all spent a day at the pool.  Growing up, my dad was the big kid joining in the fun with me and my brother, cousins or neighborhood kids in the pool.  I think in part it comes from my dad's youthful, playful spirit.  He would toss us in the air, ending in a splash of giggles and asking him to do it again.  Or he would make big waves in the pool with his long arms.  Or we would shout our requests for him to do cannon balls or jack knives.  In part, I think it comes from him growing up in a family of one in thirteen with a large extended family.  There was always a mix of ages and always children around.  As he grew older, his older siblings started having children, so there had been a pretty steady flow of youth in the family.  And it was fun to play and laugh and enjoy each other.

There was a small group of boys in the pool with their rough and tumble play.  It could have been a scene from my dad's youth with him and his brothers.  Growing up, Dad would have joined in our silly fun for just a moment.  But, these were not his children or nieces or nephews.  Of course, he would not initiate any interaction; it would not be appropriate by any means.  But, I felt like I could see the twinkle in his eye as he smiled and chuckled at the boys on the edge of mischief as he stood along the side of the pool.  There also seemed a kind of hesitation or a faint sadness.  Maybe that is me projecting my feelings of loss. But, these were not even his grandchildren.  If I can't give him one, will he ever get to be in that moment again...to experience the joy of a child that is part of your family, your inner circle and play?  Has the moment passed?  Has it passed for me?  And for him?

Microblog Mondays

November Guys

Another picture text came my way from my Mom and it was bitter sweet.  I know it is my family's way of including me, especially living further away and not getting to be part of family gatherings.  And I hate to admit it and it is one reason why it has taken me so long to write about it.  It stings and hurts on multiple levels.  I wish it wasn't so.  I really do.  I think I was trying not to let it bother me.  But the harder I try, the more it creeps back and hurts more.

One of my godsons celebrated his birthday in November.  It is also the same month of my Dad's birthday.  Little J~ is a guy's guy and loves being around his male relatives.  My mom gets a kick out of how much he enjoys my dad and buddies up with him.  In the picture, Little J~ was sitting on my Dad's lap playing an arcade game at Chuck E. Cheese.  My first thought was, how sweet.  Which, I guess is an improvement.  But, it was quickly followed by a piercing sadness.

Then my dad sent a picture text of Big J~ and Little J~ where they both had enormous grins.  It is a rare sight with my cousin because he is such a serious guy and his little boy doesn't fall far from the tree on that one.  That picture made me smile.  It wasn't as hard.  And I was happy for them, more wholly in that moment.

I continue to get better at seeing people in pictures with their children.  But it was hard to see one with Little J~ with my dad.  I want so much for that little boy to be my son sitting on my dad's lap.  I want to be the one to bring my parents joy with grandchildren.  Durring times like these, I briefly ask myself, why can't that be me?

It also doesn't seem to be getting any easier because as my parents get older, it is just another reminder that time is limited.  My mom recently shared that my dad is thinking about retiring next year.  I don't want him to retire.  It just really means he is getting older and I don't want to accept that.  It just doesn't seem fair.  But life is not fair as it keeps painfully reminding me.

All of this probably sounds selfish, but I cannot entirely help it.  I try to rise above.  But sometimes you have to admit those ugly feelings to yourself.  Otherwise, they just eat you up and that is not good.  I guess it goes back to the idea that feelings are not bad, it is what you do with them.  So, I keep it to myself.  And I remind myself to be thankful that my parents get to have these kinds of experiences.  And it is good for my cousin and my godson because Big J~'s parents each passed away awhile ago and never met there grandchildren.  It is a blessing for all to be there for each other to give support and share their love in other ways that cannot be.

A Yellow Jacket

Holidays are tough for me and Mother's Day is coming.  Sometimes I can feel very lonely, whether it is a day spent by myself because my family is far away or if it a day spent in a room full of people--even people I love.  Sometimes holidays can feel like a reminder of what was lost in terms of hopes and dreams--for myself and my parents.  There can be sense of failure.

Last summer before I moved from Pittsburgh, I spent time purging to lighten the load to pack.  Overall, it felt really good and freeing.  There was a bunch of stuff that I gave to my mom to pass along to my goddaughter.  I figured she would appreciate it more than sitting in my closet or on a shelf collecting dust.  It felt good.

Then a few weeks ago my mom forwarded me a picture of my godchild, O~.  She was wearing my yellow spring jacket that I had as a small child.  My mom explained that when my cousins came for Easter, the girls wanted to go outside, but it had grown chilly and O~ didn't bring a coat.  So, my mom went into the closet and found the jacket and offered it to her to wear.  It fit her well and she wore it home.  In fact, she enjoyed the coat so much, my mom said she could keep wearing it.  The picture my mom sent over the phone was of O~ and LJ going for a walk in the woods in a park near their home.

But somehow this picture did not elicit the same feelings of when I gave O~ the Teacher Barbie and children's books.  My heart was sad, and then I felt guilty.  My mom had always said that she saved some of my old clothes because she thought that when I had children that maybe they could wear some of them.  What was once something I imagined would be for my children, was now being worn by someone else's child.  And I cried.  But, I did not let my mom know.  I didn't have the heart to tell her.  She was so excited and happy to share that O~ loved the coat and was so proud to be wearing it.

I mean, I had given pause in the summer when I gave my mom some of my stuff to give to O~, but that stuff didn't seem to have as much meaning.  The children's books were kind of a helpful reduction in the mass of books I had collected for my classroom library.  In fact, I told my mom to share with my cousins that if there were any books that they didn't really like, to just give them away.  The Teacher Barbie was something A~ gave to me as a Christmas present when we were in undergrad together.  I went back and forth on that one.  It spoke to my roots in teaching, but I kept thinking about him when I saw it.  I figured O~ would have more fun playing with it. 

But, what I had held back was a little pearl necklace.  I don't remember how old I was when my parents gave it to me, but I do remember feeling like it was one of my first real pieces of jewelry.  It is a kid's version and not real, but it was close enough as a kid.  I went back and forth.  Why should it just sit in a jewelry box when O~ could probably enjoy it?  But the nagging thought was, what if I have a little girl someday and I want to give it to her?  Would I regret giving it to O~?  If I gave it to her, would that be giving up on my dream of being a mother?  Would I be giving something away in haste and later have regret?

Somehow the yellow jacket had more meaning for me, too.  I think it goes back to how items of clothing can carry so much more meaning for some people.  And even though the jacket was mine as a child, was it mine to give away?  This jacket really belongs to my mom and it is really for her to decide in some ways, I think, maybe.  So if that is the case, what does that mean?  Has my mom given up the dream that I will have a child someday?  Has my mom given up the dream that she will have a grandchild?  I thought that coat was special.  Maybe it doesn't carry as much meaning as I thought it did for my mom?  Or maybe her intent is that O~ can borrow it and then return it when she grows out of it?

I don't know.  I just know that I feel terribly upset about it, and I feel incredibly guilty and selfish for feeling sad about it.  My heart hurts in so many different ways.  And in the picture O~ just looks so happy and like she is having fun wearing the jacket.  How can I feel so sad when it makes O~ and my mom so happy?  At least I know that by my cousin taking a picture of O~ wearing the coat and sending it to my mom she knows it is important, has meaning and will take care of it.