I have been debating long and hard over writing this blog. Let alone posting it. For it is raw and kind of uncensored. I have not watered it down nor made it palatable. I've decided to leave it alone and let it sink in and brew. Yes, I need to think long and hard. I need to pray, and yet I need to hold these thoughts in my hands and look at them.
This thought process began a few weeks ago while on a plane to Arizona. I have no idea what brought it about. There I was sitting in my seat, trying to read, trying to shut out the world, and my oh so many thoughts, when it hit me--it doesn't really matter to anyone where I am or where I am going.
And then yesterday, my daughter-in-law posted this on Facebook--
So today, the day before her 6th birthday, she gets out of the car at school, acting all grown up. As I'm giving her direction, she responds like a teenager, "Yeah, I know, Mom," and closes the door while I'm mid-sentence! Then, as she's heading up the ramp, she turns around and gives me this giant smile and little wave, and I know right then, she will always be my little girl! And then I start sobbing!
I could not believe that this one observation of hers led right into the blog I was working on. It was as if she had read my mind. What I wanted to tell her is that this is just the beginning. This is where it all starts--that growing-up period in the life of a child. It gets worse, so much worse. Those feelings as a parent of being (feeling) unneeded, not needed--however you choose to describe it, it has begun. I guess it's that time of life for me, the one that I knew would one day come, but somehow pretended it wouldn't apply to me--not really. No, it wasn't ever going to happen to me. My children and my grandchildren would always need me, always ask for my sage advice, so chalked full of wisdom. And yet...not so much.
As my daughter-in-law caught a brief glimpse of that yesterday while dropping her daughter off at school, I had already realized that my time had come and gone. That time of life where I am no longer needed. That time of life where they--as in my children--are perfectly capable of handling their own problems just fine by themselves. Unneeded--that's how I feel. Not necessarily put out to pasture; it's just that I am not needed. Calls unanswered, questions unasked, wisdom unneeded. They can do it all on their own now.
And isn't that what I wanted in the end? For them not to need me? For them to be completely independent? I thought so anyway. I really did. I wanted them to be self-sufficient. At least that's what I thought. I thought that's what I wanted. Didn't I?
However, maybe what I really wanted was the occasional phone call or text — just to ask my opinion. I have years of experience. My face looks as if that is true. It surely does. My brain, also, with its years of education, feels that way. Why isn't anyone asking me how, what, or why? I have so much more to offer and yet...I am not called upon. In fact, I feel that sometimes I am placated. When did that happen?
I have noticed that during this time in my life, though I am truly unneeded, I must find a new way of living. One that says to itself--live for yourself now. Your children are grown. Live for yourself. And that's the hardest part for me. As I was growing up, I think I lived for my parents, then my husband, then my children, and now I wonder — whom shall I live for? I don't mean this in the religious or spiritual sense at all; I'm speaking strictly metaphorically. I am wondering: is this now the time of life I live for?
My husband and I have been discussing this at length. Our retirement is fast approaching —the time when we are wondering: where shall we live, and whom shall we live near? We have so many questions, with so few answers. It seems you see that we are not needed. Not anywhere. It's a very strange time in our lives. One full of confusion and uneasiness.
So herein lies our dilemma. Where is the next turn on this old road of ours? Where will it take us? As we ponder these questions — where will we go? What will we do? It is one of the scariest times of our lives. We now serve no purpose. Not to our children anyway. So, now we must look hard for the next "big thing" in this last stretch of our lives. I guess it's kind of like sliding into home plate--will I make it? Or will I be called out? I hate baseball, I really do.
