Yesterday, I visited my grandma in the south suburbs of Chicago. She and my grandfather moved themselves from Chicago's Roseland neighborhood to the Matteson suburb several years before I was born. This is the place I remember as a child, the one that was branded "Grandma & Papa's house", even after my grandfather passed two years ago.
It's here Grandma spends her mornings, afternoons, evenings, and nights. A place that was once filled with family, love, and company has now become a tower of isolation, a place that still means the world to her, but has transformed, because life itself has transformed. Grandma is nearly 90, now. She can't get out the way she used to, her energy is lower, and she misses my grandfather. Everything has changed since moving to the 'burbs in the 80's.
Because of this, I'm making a *better* effort to visit her more often. My parents already call her twice a day and come up for visits at least twice a month, and they live two hours away. The least I can do is visit her for a few hours every week or two.
So that's just what I did.
I came over yesterday evening, picked up some food, and sat down for dinner with Grandma. We talked about me, her, the family, our friends, the future. We vented and laughed and brainstormed. It was a girl's evening for sure, one of many to come. It was like it used to be just four years ago. I lived with Grandma and Papa my first semester of grad school—fresh out of undergrad, first-time (official) Chicagoan, and broke to the core. Still, Grandma & Papa's house remained a safe space for me. Though so much has changed since then, I've realized this clichéd phrase to be true: "the more things change, the more they stay the same".
During yesterday's visit, I took mental note of some things Grandma has taught me and re-taught me, from the time I was a girl to today. As I watched and listened to her, I understood the following:
1. Humans Are Creatures Of Habit
Because that's how this whole "human" thing works. We live our lives according to routine, practices, methods. That's why it takes so long to build or break a habit: because habits are how we handle life.
Habits can be either helpful or hurtful. A healthy habit I have is turning to music when I want to encourage myself. Even if I know it won't make me feel 100% better, I know I still need music for the stimulation it gives me. I also have an unhealthy habit of isolating myself when I'm having trouble with my health, feeling depressed, dealing with anxiety...
And so does my grandmother.
It's hard enough dealing with illness as a young person. Add an additional 60 years to that and it would be hard for anyone to deal with. Suddenly, staying in the house becomes easier because everything else has become harder. With no pets or people around, your thoughts become your only company, and when you're already in a difficult place physically, it's practically inevitable that you'd suffer some sort of depression or anxiety, making it even harder to get out of the house, and so on with this never-ending cycle. I know; I'm living it right now. See? Nothing ever changes, except for our age.
2. Take One Day At A Time
Life doesn't stop just because I'm having a bad day. It doesn't stop because Grandma's lonely in the house. Every day, I realize life is just too much—too much money owed, too many stressors, too much evil thriving in this world. Looking at the big picture and knowing I have to tackle it is anxiety-inducing all on its own, but when you get down to actually trying to attack it, actually attempting to get your life together...just know I'm getting anxious just thinking about it.
And so does my Grandma.
Everything makes her anxious, and I don't blame her. She's been here nearly a century, lived through many wars, survived many loved ones and friends who have gone on before her, spent her entire life looking after those who depended on her. How could one not be anxious after seeing, feeling, and experiencing so much?
It's a lot to take in all at once. So, I'm doing what I can to make sure we—she and I—simplify things as much as possible; take things one at a time, as they come. She and I both have a lot to get through with our health and adulting and family and life. But one thing's for sure: we can't do it all in one day. So, why act like there' s a possibility that we can? Why fret like the world will end tomorrow if we don't handle every single thing today? Again, we're human. I don't care how good anyone is at multitasking; you can only truly put all of your effort into one thing at a time if you are to see it through to the best of your abilities.
So Grandma and I are gonna do this together. We're gonna tackle one thing at a time. Maybe take a day to focus on the laundry, or cook in bulk one evening so we don't have to worry about cooking for the rest of the week, or plan for our futures a little bit at a time, one day at a time. No one can eat a whole pie in one bite, but if you cut that baby into slices (and share it with others), you'll be done in no time.
Which leads me to the most important lesson I was reminded of this weekend:
3. We Need Each Other
I am 26. Grandma is closing in on 90 (I know she'd have a fit if I ever disclosed her real age, so for peace of mind, I'll just leave it at that). Though two generations separate us, though there are many eras that divide us and make us different, I realize now that the both of us play a big role in each other's healing. We're both dealing with many health challenges in the midst of life stressors—career and finances for me, grief and mobility for her. And though our family has been beyond supportive and prayerful for the both of us, Grandma and I are the ones who understand each other's predicaments the most.
Do you see how that works? How even with generational gaps, different roles played in our family's dynamic, and two different world views determined by the times from which we came, we are still the most alike. We have our ways, and go through our ups and downs, and with outside help, we find our way back when we lose ourselves in our sorrows or ailments.
At this point in my healing journey, I'm finding that I receive help if I give it first. If I visit Grandma, reach out to her, check in on her, then I'll get her kind words and hugs and laughter in return. And before you know it, I'm feeling better, even if it's only a little bit.
I feel like we're the key to all of this, ya know? I feel like we've both been trying to approach life like it's a puzzle we can just put back together, but it's not. There are pieces missing that we can never replace, the overall landscape keeps changing, and none of us are ever going to have it all figured out, or even be able to see the BIG big picture, so it can't be like a puzzle.
Instead, we can look at life like it's a telescope: look at the world through our own lenses, look at the darkness that surrounds us, and still choose to see the light instead, choose to zoom in on one planet at a time, observe it from a safe distance, find the beauty in it, then move on to assessing the other planets and moons and comets as they come along. For now, we can be each other's world, fill our own voids with the words and thoughts and movements of each other. We can do this together until we get where we're going when we're finally called home to Glory, or until we finally figure out just what the hell is going on; whichever one comes first.
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