It's A Different World!
It's a different world!
And I am so sick of hearing it.
The other night on Reality TV, a woman spoke about her dying mother who was in the hospital and about to be discharged, but not to an hospice as the mother wanted to transition in a home setting. Her daughter lamented that she was so hurt over knowing she would soon be alone, (because her mother was dying). But the daughter made it clear, very clear her mother wasn't coming to her home to spend her last days.
I'm still looking for and listening for Compassion...
There is a lady in my building. She is older than me. She is alone and her child and grand-children live several states away. I try to get her out of the house. A lot of the times she does not want to go out. But sometimes I succeed. We have a good time and being that she is my elder I allow two-thirds of the activity to be hers and only one third to be mine. I love her and know she appreciates me.
There is another lady I know, that works so hard to take care of her elderly father. She just retired and now, she is overwhelmed. Today we are scheduled to pray together. I can't wait. Let me pull out some jazz and make her forget her problems. What a wonderful daughter! She must have read: Ephesians 6:2 "Honor thy father and mother..." I love her, in a Christian Sister way, for being there for her father.
And I am so sick of hearing it.
The other night on Reality TV, a woman spoke about her dying mother who was in the hospital and about to be discharged, but not to an hospice as the mother wanted to transition in a home setting. Her daughter lamented that she was so hurt over knowing she would soon be alone, (because her mother was dying). But the daughter made it clear, very clear her mother wasn't coming to her home to spend her last days.
I'm still looking for and listening for Compassion...
There is a lady in my building. She is older than me. She is alone and her child and grand-children live several states away. I try to get her out of the house. A lot of the times she does not want to go out. But sometimes I succeed. We have a good time and being that she is my elder I allow two-thirds of the activity to be hers and only one third to be mine. I love her and know she appreciates me.
There is another lady I know, that works so hard to take care of her elderly father. She just retired and now, she is overwhelmed. Today we are scheduled to pray together. I can't wait. Let me pull out some jazz and make her forget her problems. What a wonderful daughter! She must have read: Ephesians 6:2 "Honor thy father and mother..." I love her, in a Christian Sister way, for being there for her father.
I met a woman in the laundry room, who lived in my building, whose daughter did not visit her on Mother's Day, even though they live one zip code apart. That women died within six months of Mother's Day. That was her daughters last time to spend Mother's Day with her, and bring the grandchildren over.
One of my long-time friends who had made it very big in media, and you may recognize her name or picture, so we won't name her. She decided one Mother's Day to hangout with her girlfriends and do a sleep over from the night before. Her mother never made it to the next Mother's Day. My girlfriend regretted that for the rest of her life and often spoke of sacrifices her mother made for her.
I decided if I hear anyone say their child was a NO SHOW on Mother's Day, or Father's Day, I will suggest immediately: buy some green plants and tend to them, water them, prune them--garden, garden, garden! You must bring some new life in your home. Start exercising, even if you sit in a chair and march lightly in place and twirl your arms around the best you can. No matter how slow and tired you are. Don't forget to take your meds; this is not the time to neglect your health, if there ever was a time. Go walk--you need oxygen--you need to breathe. No matter how sad and depressed you are--you have to make it happen. It's a different world--these adult children look at you almost as if you are jesting with them. They don't feel your pain--it's like empathy went out the window. They don't get it!
This is a different world and these adult children today, don't understand when you tell them you are sad and lonely and miss them. All of this stuff about, be vulnerable and tell people how you really feel, no one can help you if you don't tell anyone; don't keep your pain bottled up is a bunch of malarkey in many cases. Because, unfortunately maybe 1 or 2 out of 50-100 will respond--and it may not be your child. And when I say respond, I mean show up in your life--show some COMPASSION. Out of 50-100 people, you may receive and ear of empathy and maybe even 80%. they may be praying for you, giving you words of comfort and this is GREAT, but when you are alone, you need someone to SHOW-UP! That's the hard part, for empathizers--to actually do something. And the hard part for you is: after you have vented, cried and told the world and no one shows up, even so--that's almost lethal. Compassion to me is something one gives and the other party feels. I believe in prayer; but compassion is the ACTION of your prayer!
One of my long-time friends who had made it very big in media, and you may recognize her name or picture, so we won't name her. She decided one Mother's Day to hangout with her girlfriends and do a sleep over from the night before. Her mother never made it to the next Mother's Day. My girlfriend regretted that for the rest of her life and often spoke of sacrifices her mother made for her.
I decided if I hear anyone say their child was a NO SHOW on Mother's Day, or Father's Day, I will suggest immediately: buy some green plants and tend to them, water them, prune them--garden, garden, garden! You must bring some new life in your home. Start exercising, even if you sit in a chair and march lightly in place and twirl your arms around the best you can. No matter how slow and tired you are. Don't forget to take your meds; this is not the time to neglect your health, if there ever was a time. Go walk--you need oxygen--you need to breathe. No matter how sad and depressed you are--you have to make it happen. It's a different world--these adult children look at you almost as if you are jesting with them. They don't feel your pain--it's like empathy went out the window. They don't get it!
This is a different world and these adult children today, don't understand when you tell them you are sad and lonely and miss them. All of this stuff about, be vulnerable and tell people how you really feel, no one can help you if you don't tell anyone; don't keep your pain bottled up is a bunch of malarkey in many cases. Because, unfortunately maybe 1 or 2 out of 50-100 will respond--and it may not be your child. And when I say respond, I mean show up in your life--show some COMPASSION. Out of 50-100 people, you may receive and ear of empathy and maybe even 80%. they may be praying for you, giving you words of comfort and this is GREAT, but when you are alone, you need someone to SHOW-UP! That's the hard part, for empathizers--to actually do something. And the hard part for you is: after you have vented, cried and told the world and no one shows up, even so--that's almost lethal. Compassion to me is something one gives and the other party feels. I believe in prayer; but compassion is the ACTION of your prayer!
On the access-a-ride bus you sometimes hear disabled elderly grand-mothers complain about how they hardly ever see their children and grandchildren and how hurt they are. I've also heard murmurings of how selfish their kids are and how, "they are just waiting for me to die to get their inheritance". Sadly, some say their adult child argues with them.
Everyone says, it's a different world. These adult children, just don't come around to see their parents. They don't realize how the grand-children would light up the grand-parent's eyes. Today's adults are working and soooooo busy. They just don't have time. And they are economically stretched. They just can't seem to help, in some cases, at all.
Some say, It's a different world and the communities and places that they grew up in have changed: culturally and traditionally. Where once generations lived together in the same household and the elder parents were once taken care of at home, that dynamic is dwindling away. A friend said, "Where I grew up families stayed together, but when visiting his childhood city, there are now 'Old Folks Home' cropping up, all over the place". Hospices are the new wave. But then there are the elderly grandparents (and some disabled too) that say-- they do hear from their children. And maybe pretty often, because that adult child needs some money or a baby sitter. Jesus Christ! Can anyone win, here?
Everyone says, it's a different world. These adult children, just don't come around to see their parents. They don't realize how the grand-children would light up the grand-parent's eyes. Today's adults are working and soooooo busy. They just don't have time. And they are economically stretched. They just can't seem to help, in some cases, at all.
Some say, It's a different world and the communities and places that they grew up in have changed: culturally and traditionally. Where once generations lived together in the same household and the elder parents were once taken care of at home, that dynamic is dwindling away. A friend said, "Where I grew up families stayed together, but when visiting his childhood city, there are now 'Old Folks Home' cropping up, all over the place". Hospices are the new wave. But then there are the elderly grandparents (and some disabled too) that say-- they do hear from their children. And maybe pretty often, because that adult child needs some money or a baby sitter. Jesus Christ! Can anyone win, here?
Sometimes, I wonder do our children, remember when their parents used to pray with them, play with them? Now they are grown and the roles are reversed--and the adult child is in denial, omG!
Don't get me wrong. I know there are families that take care of their elders. They wouldn't hear of them living in a medicinal, cold environment, living with strangers- or they wouldn't think of a day going by without calling their mom or dad or a few days the most. I know of adult children who vow to make sure their parents are not lonely. In some cultures they are groomed that way. But, unfortunately, nowadays, many an elder with or without a disability is toughing it out. on their own. And it is up to that elder to make it happen, sans help.
I remember when my adult child, who lives in another state used to still work in NY. I had to babysit one day a week. I miss that. Now she very seldom comes to NY with the grands. One day, I saw my son-in-law and it had been so long, I was trembling when I saw him. Even when I tell them I miss them, I can see they don't know what I am talking about. They have their own denial issues, busy careers, a house, a mortgage a this, a that.
I remember my Mama, those last few months. I cooked her dinner every night. I loved her and hugged her in spite of her crankiness. This was Mama--my Mama. She did not want to go into a hospital. She wanted to live in her own house until she died. She only went into the hospital when they said her cancer had to be treated.
I remember Papa, his last year and a half. His second wife put him in a Nursing Home, because he fell and broke his hip. But it seemed when he had recuperated she did not come and get him. I went to see him every week. Every week.
Papa's one biological child and her children, were all NO SHOWS when it came to visiting him. They individually visited maybe one time in that year and a half, if that much. I couldn't believe it. He and Mama took care of all of them. How could they be so cruel?
I used to think, Papa must be so lonely to live in that place. On Friday's, I would take my little girl to see Papa. If I did not make it on Friday, I went on Saturday. If I didn't make it on Saturday, I went on Sunday. I did not drive and I had to take the bus to somewhere past 5 Towns and switch buses by the McDonalds Restaurant. It was somewhere in the Rockaway/Coney Island area. I remember there seemed to never be a quick transfer. I remember the winters well, it was freezing as we were near the ocean. But I went just the same. I would have felt so guilty if I did not go see Papa. I had to go, and no one told me to do it. I wouldn't be able to sleep. My heart would have broken knowing he was alone from his family.
When I saw Papa, he was always sitting in a wheelchair and as soon as he recognized us, as we walked down the corridor, he would start to smile. He was so anxious to hug me, and hug, hug, hug his little great-great-grandbaby. He would say to her, "My Angel, How's Papa's little Angel?" And that was all I needed to see, his outstretched arms, the smile that I could tell went straight to his heart. And then she would happily say, "Hi Papa". His breath got calmer, and he would say over and over, "My little Angel", and he could only wrap one arm around her, my little baby; and I would see his eyes would well.
"The world is moving so fast these days that the man who says it can't be done is generally interrupted by someone doing it."
Harry Emerson Fosdick - 1878-1969, Pastor
Don't get me wrong. I know there are families that take care of their elders. They wouldn't hear of them living in a medicinal, cold environment, living with strangers- or they wouldn't think of a day going by without calling their mom or dad or a few days the most. I know of adult children who vow to make sure their parents are not lonely. In some cultures they are groomed that way. But, unfortunately, nowadays, many an elder with or without a disability is toughing it out. on their own. And it is up to that elder to make it happen, sans help.
I remember when my adult child, who lives in another state used to still work in NY. I had to babysit one day a week. I miss that. Now she very seldom comes to NY with the grands. One day, I saw my son-in-law and it had been so long, I was trembling when I saw him. Even when I tell them I miss them, I can see they don't know what I am talking about. They have their own denial issues, busy careers, a house, a mortgage a this, a that.
I remember my Mama, those last few months. I cooked her dinner every night. I loved her and hugged her in spite of her crankiness. This was Mama--my Mama. She did not want to go into a hospital. She wanted to live in her own house until she died. She only went into the hospital when they said her cancer had to be treated.
I remember Papa, his last year and a half. His second wife put him in a Nursing Home, because he fell and broke his hip. But it seemed when he had recuperated she did not come and get him. I went to see him every week. Every week.
Papa's one biological child and her children, were all NO SHOWS when it came to visiting him. They individually visited maybe one time in that year and a half, if that much. I couldn't believe it. He and Mama took care of all of them. How could they be so cruel?
I used to think, Papa must be so lonely to live in that place. On Friday's, I would take my little girl to see Papa. If I did not make it on Friday, I went on Saturday. If I didn't make it on Saturday, I went on Sunday. I did not drive and I had to take the bus to somewhere past 5 Towns and switch buses by the McDonalds Restaurant. It was somewhere in the Rockaway/Coney Island area. I remember there seemed to never be a quick transfer. I remember the winters well, it was freezing as we were near the ocean. But I went just the same. I would have felt so guilty if I did not go see Papa. I had to go, and no one told me to do it. I wouldn't be able to sleep. My heart would have broken knowing he was alone from his family.
When I saw Papa, he was always sitting in a wheelchair and as soon as he recognized us, as we walked down the corridor, he would start to smile. He was so anxious to hug me, and hug, hug, hug his little great-great-grandbaby. He would say to her, "My Angel, How's Papa's little Angel?" And that was all I needed to see, his outstretched arms, the smile that I could tell went straight to his heart. And then she would happily say, "Hi Papa". His breath got calmer, and he would say over and over, "My little Angel", and he could only wrap one arm around her, my little baby; and I would see his eyes would well.
"The world is moving so fast these days that the man who says it can't be done is generally interrupted by someone doing it."
Harry Emerson Fosdick - 1878-1969, Pastor