Last week I visited my daughter, her husband, and my three grandchildren in Texas. I am the kind of person (“Two” on the Enneagram) who integrates into the situation at hand. I had a wonderful time with the kids, helping them with guitar practice, homework, all that stuff that a grandmother does when visiting during the week. I also had fun with my daughter, as her work schedule was lighter than usual. We had time for yoga, walks, projects and errands. I temporarily became part of their household.
At the time, I was reading “Being Mortal” by Atul Gawande. He addresses the end of life, and what matters to people as they approach the end. (I recommend the book, but that is a different blog.) The main thing that people seem to want is quality time with their family. I live in California, my daughter is in Texas, and my son in Oregon. When I reach the last chapter of my life, will I be able to spend time with my family? This thought made me consider eventually moving closer to one of my children.
The first afternoon when I returned home, I practiced the piano, because I had missed it for five days. What a joy to get back to it. That evening, as I spooned next to my husband, I appreciated his warm body next to mine, and the relationship we have. I loved being in our space, in the home my husband and I have created, with our own customs, my own “stuff” around. As I integrated back into my own household, I felt as if I rediscovered the real me, a person with an independent life, one of my own making and my own choosing. What could be better than that? I am so very grateful.
As for the end of my life: may it be a long, long way off. To paraphrase Scarlett O’Hara: I won’t think about that now. I’ll think about that tomorrow.