When I had kids, I often dreamt of the day that I would be “done” and could relax. I was very young when I began having children. I was 16 the first time I got pregnant and by 24 I had four babies 7 years old to newborn. I had a lot of ideas of what parenting was supposed to look like and what life in general was supposed to look like.
I now have two twenty-something children and realize just how short-sighted a person is at that age. My idea of what life would be like came from books, TV shows and the deep desire to not be a poor Mexican anymore.
My grandparents worked hard in the fields of the Texas panhandle. I do not know what their dreams for their family was because I never asked them. My grandfather died when I was three years old and by the time I moved to be close to my grandmother, I was a self-centered teenager trying to work through childhood trauma. I never thought to ask her what her dreams for her family were. I can only imagine what her conversations with my grandfather were at night as they fell asleep.
I also wonder how different the world would be if families didn’t live apart and grandparents were around to impart wisdom and be a safe place for their grandchildren to go. What if we are not supposed to work our entire lives to end up alone?
When I became a grandmother at 36 a lot of my friends were still having babies. Now that I am 43 and my youngest child is about to graduate from high school and is about to be 19, I am “free” and can go on to live my own life. At any rate, that is the message I have heard all my life.
What does that mean?
I have learned in the three years since my oldest son died by suicide that there is no such thing as “done” when it comes to parenting. I am still parenting Anthony and he is dead. I take care of his grave, remember him, celebrate his existence on his birthday and mourn him on the anniversary of his suicide. And I am grandmother to his children.
There is no done for me.
Grandparenting for me means helping my grandchild with her virtual school while her mother works. It means having the youngest grandchild and helping her learn her ABCs. It means they live next door and come over on days their mom is off and ask me what I am doing. They climb the tree between our yards to talk to me when I let the dogs out.
I have talked to people who think this is horrible and who brag about their life of freedom with an empty nest. That is good for some people, but it is not my life. I also wonder how different the world would be if families didn’t live apart and grandparents were around to impart wisdom and be a safe place for their grandchildren to go. What if we are not supposed to work our entire lives to end up alone?
We wonder why so many elderly people end up living their last days alone in nursing homes instead of with their families, but how much of our culture is about working to the day where we are alone and no longer serving anyone but ourselves?
I do not think that having a career or a life of relaxation after raising kids is a bad thing. Or even putting elderly in the care of professionals in nursing homes. None of these things is bad in and of itself but the attitude of being free from the human beings you made and free from the humans they make is weird to me. I am free from my oldest son, he is dead. And it sucks. I would do anything to have him alive and needing something from me. I am thankful for him needing me to feed the rose bush at his grave.
I have learned in the three years since my oldest son died by suicide that there is no such thing as “done” when it comes to parenting. I am still parenting Anthony and he is dead.
I wonder how much love would be in the world if we instead worked at living together as multi-generational families with family members who do not have the goal of being alone and free from the members of their family? What if that was a culture shift that can come out of Covid? Would that solve some issues? Everyone in a family working together to care for each other and raise the children (maybe while working on healing generational trauma)?
I could be dreaming that this will work for my family but that is the goal for me. I want to help rear my grandchildren and I want them to sit with me when I die as they hold my hand telling their favorite stories of me. I want my husband or one of my children to lead their families in a rosary at my bedside. My Tio Roy and Tia Mary taught me that is how we send off our loved ones when they die and I pray that I have that kind of send-off.
Now is the time for us to reimagine what kind of life and death we want.
What kind of life and legacy are we building? What is the culture of our family? Is it one where the children all feel like they are burdens their parents cannot wait to be freed from or is it a family that loves and serves each other? I do not think there is one way for every family to be a family that loves and serves. It will look different for every family, but that should be the goal for all of us.
Leticia Ochoa Adams writes from Texas, on life, death, grief, suicide, faith, motherhood, doubts and whatever (else) happens to be on her mind.
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