This morning a conversation with a friend turned down memory lane. I talked about going to my grandparents' house every Sunday when I was growing up. We would make the 70 mile trip after going to church.
My mom was an only child, her mom (Grandma Burns) was sick even before I was born. My grandfather (Grandpa Burns) was able to take care of her during the week. My parents would go grocery shopping for the week and bring KFC dinner home.
My younger sister and I would dust and vacuum, my older sister would help our mom change the bedding and do laundry. In the summer, my brothers would mow the lawn and do other outside work. When we were done, we sat on the couch, with our hands folded, until it was time to leave.
We would go to my dad's parents' house. My grandma would fix Sunday dinner, my aunts, uncles and cousins were all there. The kids across the street would come over and all of us would play outside.
Grandpa Burns had a heart attack and died when I was in 6th grade, Grandma Burns came to live with us. She had Parkinson's and was very frail, walking through the house, rocking in her rocking chair. She could never be still. I remember her right hand constantly, her mouth a clicking sound over and over. I can still hear her say, "Oh Bob..Oh Bob, why did you leave me?" (my grandfather's name)
Grandma Burns would sit in her rocking chair in the afternoon, waiting for my younger sister to get off the school bus. My sister would sit with her, tell her about her day and sometimes read to her. Grandma would have a spark in her eyes and smile.
My older sister would come home on weekends from college, where she was going to be a nurse. Grandma had long, beautiful hair. My sister would help with the extra care our grandmother needed.
My mom would hang laundry outside, grandma loved going out with her. One day, grandma fell and broke her arm. The hospital kept her for observation. Grandma died the next day from pneumonia.
My mother broke down at the cemetery. She kept sobbing, "I'm all alone." I didn't understand what she meant, how could she say she was alone. Losing my mother years later, I could understand. There is no other feeling like losing your mother.
Now that I am in my 60's, thinking back to those times, it really doesn't feel that long ago. I can put myself back there, seeing it as a child and now, as an older adult.
I don't know how my parents did what they did, and take care of 6 kids. I don't know how my mom was so strong, taking care of everyone, the house, laundry, everything.
Our family was very dysfunctional, yet the house was always clean, laundry done, never went hungry, my dad always worked hard. He worked just as hard at home as he did working for General Electric.
It was a different time, families always have had issues, yet it was assumed that when it came to being there for each other, they were... Every family is dysfunctional...
Social media has had a lot of positives, reuniting families and friends. Helping people to keep in touch. A support system for many people who are alone, lonely, sad, going through loss.
It has also caused a disconnect. "Reality" is now virtual. Texting has taken the place of a phone call or visit.
So much is out there, not tangible. Less visits, less physical contact, emails, texts, have taken the place of a personal letter. Ordering online is convenient, still, that personal touch is missing.
Sending a photo by text is awesome. Sending a message is great. Yet, hearing someone's voice is priceless.
I can't imagine my mom ordering groceries to be delivered once a week to her parents' and a hot meal. As hard as it was for my parents, I'm sure those weekly visits meant the world to my grandparents.
Yes, everyone's busy, life is hectic, that is nothing new.
We need "be there" for people we love.
Nothing can replace reaching out and actually touching someone.
