Recently I went to the funeral of my OH’s paternal Grandma. I’d the joy of meeting several times over 5.5years, and loved her. Not only that, but even from before I met her, it was clear just how much she loved her grandchildren, and how loved she was from how often they spoke about her.
Before going to the service at the crematorium however, we went to his Nana (maternal grandmother). Now, OH’s Mum told her hubby off for stalling tactics, so that they wouldn’t have to spend as long at her flat. Also, when going to visit with Tom, he always volunteered to see Grandma, but was told to go and see his Nana. We also went to his Nana’s first, to use having time to see Grandma as an excuse. This is just one example – I’ve seen and experienced it in my own family.
I was never close to my maternal grandparents (and my paternal grandparents died before me and my sisters were even born). They’d had 14 children, and times were tight. Mum often tells tales of washing her hair in fairy liquid, and lots of stories of turning scraps into dinner. After raising so many, neither of my parents were interested in grandchildren. It was nothing personal against any of us – they just reckoned they’d served their sentence as far as child-rearing was concerned.
My Granda was a foul-tempered man. Throwing a wobbly is referred to the in the family as ‘Doing a Davey’. I never ever saw that side to him – he was a quiet man anytime I visited. I never found him endearing though (bearing in mind I was 1st year when he passed away, so about 11yrs old). When his cancer was confirmed as terminal, Mum wanted me to go and play the flute with him. He was a very musical man, and in that tiny house where they raised their family, the front room was his music room, complete with silver flutes, band flutes, an electric organ and more instruments than I can even remember. She knew he’d love it, but I always wormed out of it. I was scared of him because I knew the harsh father he’d been, and I couldn’t get over that. Despite the fact that I wasn’t close to him, I did cry all day at his funeral. After the service at the house, then the church sermon I was literally wiped out and couldn’t face the grave side. I think rarely of him even now.
My Granny was a bit friendlier. She always gave us 50p when we visited, and often some Roses. I felt more comfortable in her house when Granda was out with the band (he was a flutist in a pipe band, like many of my uncles are now). When Granda died, only 3 kids cared enough to see Granny every week, take her to church and generally get her out of the house. Mum was one of them, so she came for roast dinner every 3rd Sunday. I liked that: in fact, with Granda gone she seemed more interested. My little sister was the first kid I saw my Granny take an active interest in, so much so she named her Corgi pup after her when her old bitch (Queen) Lizzie passed away. Mostly though she spoke only about her Sunday dinner for a few minutes, then fell asleep reading the paper after dinner. There was no bond there either when she passed away when I was 19 or 20yrs old. While her funeral was sad, I found it much easier. I think the fact that Mum was once of her few carers (grandparents favoured their sons a ridiculous amount, but not a single one cared for her when she got sick – it was her daughters who rallied round to give her palliative care at home), and took comfort that she was peace meant it was easier to deal with, along with my age. It almost feels bad that it was as easy as it was.
However, I do have another ‘grandma’. Not a blood one, but she was actually neighbours with my grandparents for years. She was mother of Mum’s best friend from school. Mum’s known her all her life, and with Nana’s kids spread the world over bar one, Mum sort of took her on as a grandparent.
Nana was the grandparent I never had. She was loving, friendly, told stories of times so long ago that I couldn’t possibly imagine. She was exactly what I imagined a grandma should be. I always volunteered to look after her cat and plants when she was away and we saw her once a week.
In older age however (in her 80s), she’s changed. She’s always been a woman of strong opinion, but has now lost her tact. It makes her company less enjoyable, and Mum’s less free in her conversations with her. Things are therefore tense. There’s also other reasons I won’t go into, but basically as she further ails and ages, she’s become less likeable, and so people (my family included) are spending less time with her (though still helping lots e.g. doing her garden).
This is what I saw in OH’s Nana – the person becomes less likeable and tolerable, and so family start increasing their distance, or at least keeping in touch but with less enthusiasm and genuine feeling. I know it happens with other people too.
What I do wonder though, is this a mechanism for coping with death? I do wonder if, albeit unintentionally, what often happens is that the person is more isolated as they’ve become less easy, so making their passing that bit less painful? Does it make sense for human beings to isolate their elders, moving on faster? On some level it probably does. It is of course far from universal however: lots of people are there with their older relatives often and enthusiastically until the end. Still, there are lots that end up doing it out of ‘duty’, rather than out of want.
What scares me though is whether I’ll end up like that. I can't imagine a time that I'll ever love my parents less and not want to see them. I can however definitely forsee it happening with some folk I know and love. What about ourselves though? What if I have kids and they hate seeing me when I’m old? It’s such a horrible thought, and I wonder how it makes older folk feel when they’re alive, or whether less visits suit them too at that point? From the outside looking in, it does sound like a sad end doesn’t it? Fingers crossed we all continue to cherish our loved ones all the way until their end, and don’t end up one of those people for whom the communication barrier goes up in old age.
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