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Reflections
Apr. 26th, 2013 09:54 pmI'm not to the point yet where getting older myself is a concern, but the indirect implications are what bother me. I'm a couple hours away from 30 now, and as the baby of my family, to turn over another decade feels like the whole family gets pushed older, you know? Mom and Dad are 40+ years older than me. If I'm 30, they're 70something. My brothers are middle-aged (holy shit). Of course, all this is no more true today than it was yesterday or a few months ago, it's just a bit starker, I guess?
When I was younger, I used to be able to count on a stream of birthday cards beginning sometimes many weeks before my birthday. My grandmothers, nanny, great aunts, and other matronly caregivers in my family prided themselves on being ahead of schedule. When Virginia Page died last week, the last of my early birthday wishers moved on. There is almost no one left from my grandparents' generation; none of the family I have been closest to. No one remains in the generation above my dad on that side, and my mom has one uncle, the youngest, left from that family of seven siblings. None remain on my maternal grandfather's side. This isn't sad -- all these people would be disturbingly old if they were still around -- it just is. It sucks to say goodbye, and it sucks to miss better times, but I'm generally okay with the fact that people age and eventually die. Lots of people die before they get to age very much, so there's a bit of luck in making it this far anyway, but I guess what I'm trying to say is the thing I dislike about getting older/time passing is the increasing inevitability of the end. Not for me, but for those older than me, the ones I'm not ready to say goodbye to and start missing. I'm not terribly sentimental about birthday presents and cards and such, but this is the first year in my life when I didn't get one of those ridiculously early ones, and that struck me as a kind of subtly colossal change.
I did save the last letter Virginia Page wrote me. She knew it was the last one, and she was basically collecting her final thoughts on scrap papers, as she didn't have the energy to string too much together at once. I believe this was written on a piece of a page-a-day calendar. The front has an image of a mother hugging a child, and a quote that says "Life is the first gift, love is the second, and understanding the third." VP picked up from that on the back and wrote:
"But how difficult to understand all the time. One thing I do know, it has been a treat to have your notes and love and to watch you grow. Thanks for the gift of care and attention you've given me. Love, Virginia Page."
I'm so glad I took the time to be pen pals with her over these last few years. We're not related, but she is a true Massie family treasure, and I'm going to miss her like crazy. I'm glad, too, that she got to see me grow, twice as old as my grandmother witnessed. It was so special to me each time VP mentioned that I reminded her of Margaret (my grandmother and her best friend). There is no higher compliment, and I'm glad that 15 years past Marma's departure, those closest to her still find me living by her example. (She didn't say "fuck" as much, but she did teach me the "beans, beans, they're good for your heart..." rhyme. Scandalous enough for a Southern lady born in 1908.)
In so many ways, a person never outgrows being the baby of the family, but the next generation is filling in quite nicely, and I'm enjoying something of a position of wisdom and authority with my nieces and younger cousins. In fact, nothing has been more rewarding to me than playing the role of aunt. And I'm getting much better at it with each passing year. Aging is a mixed bag, I guess, but I'm still in the upswing, and I'm optimistic that I can continue to find examples of upswinging as I get older still. I'm not ready to think about everything that will come with being 40, but one thing I know will be awesome is that Lucy will be a young adult. I will take her on a trip for her high school graduation, and we'll share amazing life experiences when she's older that a 9-year-old can't really appreciate. I don't need to press fast forward, but I know that time in her life is going to be special for me as her aunt, and I welcome it. Emily will probably have a kid or two by then as well, and I'll be their aunt, too. And that's just fucking awesome.
So, hello there, 30.
When I was younger, I used to be able to count on a stream of birthday cards beginning sometimes many weeks before my birthday. My grandmothers, nanny, great aunts, and other matronly caregivers in my family prided themselves on being ahead of schedule. When Virginia Page died last week, the last of my early birthday wishers moved on. There is almost no one left from my grandparents' generation; none of the family I have been closest to. No one remains in the generation above my dad on that side, and my mom has one uncle, the youngest, left from that family of seven siblings. None remain on my maternal grandfather's side. This isn't sad -- all these people would be disturbingly old if they were still around -- it just is. It sucks to say goodbye, and it sucks to miss better times, but I'm generally okay with the fact that people age and eventually die. Lots of people die before they get to age very much, so there's a bit of luck in making it this far anyway, but I guess what I'm trying to say is the thing I dislike about getting older/time passing is the increasing inevitability of the end. Not for me, but for those older than me, the ones I'm not ready to say goodbye to and start missing. I'm not terribly sentimental about birthday presents and cards and such, but this is the first year in my life when I didn't get one of those ridiculously early ones, and that struck me as a kind of subtly colossal change.
I did save the last letter Virginia Page wrote me. She knew it was the last one, and she was basically collecting her final thoughts on scrap papers, as she didn't have the energy to string too much together at once. I believe this was written on a piece of a page-a-day calendar. The front has an image of a mother hugging a child, and a quote that says "Life is the first gift, love is the second, and understanding the third." VP picked up from that on the back and wrote:
"But how difficult to understand all the time. One thing I do know, it has been a treat to have your notes and love and to watch you grow. Thanks for the gift of care and attention you've given me. Love, Virginia Page."
I'm so glad I took the time to be pen pals with her over these last few years. We're not related, but she is a true Massie family treasure, and I'm going to miss her like crazy. I'm glad, too, that she got to see me grow, twice as old as my grandmother witnessed. It was so special to me each time VP mentioned that I reminded her of Margaret (my grandmother and her best friend). There is no higher compliment, and I'm glad that 15 years past Marma's departure, those closest to her still find me living by her example. (She didn't say "fuck" as much, but she did teach me the "beans, beans, they're good for your heart..." rhyme. Scandalous enough for a Southern lady born in 1908.)
In so many ways, a person never outgrows being the baby of the family, but the next generation is filling in quite nicely, and I'm enjoying something of a position of wisdom and authority with my nieces and younger cousins. In fact, nothing has been more rewarding to me than playing the role of aunt. And I'm getting much better at it with each passing year. Aging is a mixed bag, I guess, but I'm still in the upswing, and I'm optimistic that I can continue to find examples of upswinging as I get older still. I'm not ready to think about everything that will come with being 40, but one thing I know will be awesome is that Lucy will be a young adult. I will take her on a trip for her high school graduation, and we'll share amazing life experiences when she's older that a 9-year-old can't really appreciate. I don't need to press fast forward, but I know that time in her life is going to be special for me as her aunt, and I welcome it. Emily will probably have a kid or two by then as well, and I'll be their aunt, too. And that's just fucking awesome.
So, hello there, 30.
