I remember being on the phone with my grandmother about 25 years ago. I was living in NJ at the time, about 15 minutes from the beach house where my grandparents retired. I saw them frequently. I took my grandparents to doctor appointments and grocery shopping. I had them up for dinner at least once a week, to spend time with their great-grandchildren, one of whom was in K and one was a toddler. I called them at least once a day to see how they were. It wasn’t a chore. I loved them. They were fun to be around and I considered myself extremely blessed that I still had them and my children had a chance to know their great-grandparents. One day my youngest son was diagnosed with pneumonia. He was so sick. I was worried. Neither of us was sleeping. It was an exhausting time. During that stretch, I apparently committed the ultimate sin: I forgot to call my grandmother. To be honest, it never entered my mind. I was exhausted. A few days later, I figured I had better call her, so I picked up the phone. When she answered, there was a definite chill in the air. Instead of her usual friendly overtones, I was greeted with an almost imperceptible “oh hi” followed by chilly silence. I proceeded to talk as though everything were normal. It took me a few minutes to realize she was only responding in monosyllables. When I asked her what was wrong, she replied “Nothing, why?”And I said “well, you’re a bit quiet” and she said “No…I’m just surprised to hear from you…..It’s been so long” Boom….there it was…the guilt, as only a mother or apparently a grandmother could deliver. I was annoyed, but kept it light, remembering my grandmother’s age and allowing her a bit of slack. In another minute or so she was over it! I laughed about it with my friend and my mom, who said “Yep…sounds like your grandmother”.
I forgot about it for awhile until a few years later when my mother did the same thing as her mother…. I called her to say “Hi”-Big Mistake. Apparently she was annoyed because I hadn’t called her enough, or visited her enough or something. I got the same cold shoulder, the same “Oh…how nice to hear from you (cue the sarcasm) I was wondering if you remembered you had a mother”. Yikes …it couldn’t have been more than a few days…a week tops, but there it was: staring me in the face. My mother had become her mother and apparently they were both out to get me. In the back of my mind, I knew that Mom just missed me and that was a good thing, but the guilt was a bit hard to take when I was juggling a family that included a sickly child with special needs and a husband who was never home. But I let it slide. I only seethed about it with my friends. But I thought of it over the years. And I wondered how two women who were as different as my mother and her mother could act exactly the same in similar circumstances. Then, it happened to me!
I was so sure I would never turn into my mother. Not that my mom wasn’t amazing. She was. Losing her was one of, if not the, most painful thing I have ever experienced. Despite the fact that my mom and I were as different as summer and winter, Nordstrom and Walmart, an eagle and a flamingo. I loved my mom, but we had different tastes in clothing, jewelry, music and books. We had different ideas on where to vacation, what we liked to eat and how we enjoyed spending time. I loved to cook, mom saw it as an unpleasant necessity that was her duty as a wife and mother and sadly many of her offerings reflected that. But she was always fashionable, always properly accessorized and coiffed. Mom knew the latest fashions and trends. She kept up with the latest movies and gossip. Her favorite pastime was shopping.
Once when she and my father came to visit me up in Alaska, she pointed out several times how much fun she had visiting my brother in Los Angeles, while grumbling about the weather, the mountains and the lack of “civilization’ in Anchorage. When I asked if she was coming on our hike on the Matanuska glacier later that day, she looked at me as though I suddenly sprouted a second head and said “Are you crazy? Drop me at the mall”. I guess she preferred Rodeo Drive to the most beautiful scenery in the world. My mom and I even differed as far as emotions were concerned. My mother was always very stoic. I think I can count on one hand the number of times I saw her cry. She also wasn’t one who would say “I love you” a lot, despite the fact that I knew she did. I, on the other hand cry so often whether to express joy or sorrow, fear or anger that I’m surprised I haven’t dehydrated by now. I also believe in telling those I love how much I love them….often. My mother would say “You are just like your grandmother, so emotional”. Yes mom and I were so different and yet, slowly, gradually, barely perceptively, I began to evolve into her. When did this happen? How did this happen?? Why did this happen?? Was this one of the inevitable occurrences that one wishes they could avoid but never can; like getting gray hair or crow’s feet???
I honestly don’t know. I just know I began to notice similarities when I became a mother myself. Not that I began to wear perfectly tied scarves around my neck or uncomfortable yet stylish shoes, or even tasteful, tailored clothing. There was nothing that noticeable. But I did catch myself saying things like “How many times do I have to tell you to clean your room?” or “”This isn’t a restaurant, eat what I served” or worse ” Because I said so, that’s why!” But even that wasn’t definitive. I mean, many parents say similar phrases. But when I really noticed myself turning into Mom was when my oldest son moved out on his own. Part of me was happy. He had moved back in after grad school when he was searching for a job and stayed for almost 4 years. I enjoyed his company and he did a lot of things around the house for me, but the house was messier, I spent more on food, I lost my guest room and when his then girlfriend would visit from Seattle, she would move in too, turning my upstairs from a sanctuary into a motel. It was time. He bought a condo nearer to his workplace and I was happy for him. But then, my mother surfaced.
At first, he kept in touch a lot. He needed help with furniture selection, recipes etc. He popped over to visit frequently and called to just chat or discuss the latest Yankee game. But then it stopped. He stopped communicating. I would text him and get no response. I would call and get his voice mail. The invitation to dinner at his new place never materialized. Once he had a new girlfriend, his brother and I ceased to exist. On the one hand it is normal….I think. But on the other hand it annoyed me. After the divorce, I bought a bigger place than I needed so that he and his brother would have a place to live. I let him live rent free while he was searching for a job. I took care of his dog while he went across the country to visit his then girlfriend. His dog, whom I loved, did a number on my carpets which have yet to be cleaned. My washing machine which broke down right after he moved in, no doubt could have lasted a few more years without the strain of his laundry. To this day, I pay for Netflix and MLB, which he still uses. In short I was a helluva great mom and this is the thanks I get?? He ignores me? I knew the metamorphosis into my mom was complete when I was talking with my friend Kathy and told her how I haven’t heard from my son in a month, how ungrateful he is, how pissed off I am. Kathy,, as usual, was sympathetic and let me vent. And vent I did. I ended up saying “I am deliberately not going to call him. He can call me. I am going to see how long it takes”. A few days later it came…..the call….I stared at the phone when his number came up…I thought of not picking it up, but I didn’t have the discipline. In those few seconds before I answered, I had it all plotted out. I would answer indifferently, coldly. I would say “Hi, who is this? I don’t recognize the voice” (Of course that is harder to do now than when I was his age, thanks to caller ID but still….he would get the message). I would give him the cold shoulder. I picked up the phone and said ……………………..”Hi honey,how are you?” Then we proceeded to have a glorious conversation about everything and nothing.We ended with “Love you mom..Love you too hon”…..Not the script my mom or hers used, but maybe I had more discipline? Or maybe I just missed my son and didn’t want to spend precious moments playing games? But I did want to do it..I really wanted to give him the cold shoulder for a while…….that must count for something…..Right???
New Endings 