So, this weekend we hob-nobbed with my great aunt and uncle, she 89, he 92. On the first brush with them in years, we were standing in line to order. She came up closer to me to say something, then she wobbled, teetered, and nearly lost her balance. The Right Thing to do would have been to step up and catch her. Instead, I flinched.
I hope the flinch was all in my head. I hope she did not notice. I know I did not bump into the next person in line beside me. I didn't spill my pop. I did not blurt out something out loud, like, "Ahhh! Get away from me!" It was, in any case, a very unmanly move on my part. I credit it to being so far removed from the role of care-giver. Yes, I have a septuagenarian living in my home, but she's a bit more light on her feet, like a turtle.
It's not that I fear the elderly. I do not run from the feeble or needy, as if they were zombies or something. I'm just not accustomed to being a catcher. (You'd think I would be, if you knew how sometimes-clumsy my wife is!) Parenting involves righting toddlers and propping up babies, but not catching a slow-falling senior citizen.
I need to get better at this. I simply have to, for there will come a day when my services are needed. If nothing else, I'll likely have to watch my own footing, someday. Besides, I am a kind and loving person, and my body language (and follow-through) should reflect that! I can't back away when someone needs me.
While I'm analyzing my weaknesses, I am very bad at condolences. I just cannot bring myself to express my sorrow at some one's loss. Most of the problem is that I just don't know how to talk it out, and thus, I think I come off sounding insincere, flaky, like a Hallmark card. This all started being a problem when I was on a 3 hour ride from college back home with a guy who'd just buried his father (after he was the first on the scene to find his father had shot himself in the head). That was a gruelling ride. I just did not know what to say..."Well, Bob, how was your break?...Say, sorry about your dad and all...Did you see the game?" It was a very, very long 3 hours, and I do not think I will ever recover. He claims I was there for him. I claim I was a boob. They say that funerals are for the living, but everyone I've been at as a grieving family member seemed more for the dead guy. Nothing anyone said really consoled me much.
Oh, and I'm no good at math, either, but that's another entry.
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1 comment:
How clumbsy your wife is, huh? Hmph! I think you analyze the situation from inside your head and what really happens is seldom as bad as you think it was! Wish I could have seen the Martha incident so I could tell you so! Give yourself a little credit and acknowledge that you are very hard on yourself!
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