I'm sitting in the living room, listening to the Out of Africa soundtrack, having a glass of wine, with candles lit. This is my favorite room in the house, and also it's the room that feels like an homage to our families. I used to think of it as the room that felt like my parents' living room, which is beautiful and has a very distinctive vibe that I love. But actually it is a beautiful melding of both of our families. Brian's grandparents' sofa, end tables, and arm chairs; my parents' walnut table with embedded stones that they bought when they married in 1969; the credenza Brian and I bought for our first house in Munster, which is my favorite piece of furniture; our record collection; my mom's coffee table books; the paintings by my great great aunt Erna; my favorite paintings from my grandmother's house; the cuckoo clock from the Schwartzwald that my sisters in law gave me for my 50th; and family pictures from both sides of the family. Also three plants that I have managed to keep alive for multiple years, including a rubber plant from a Munster friend who we know through my dad's Brooklyn roots. I saw a post from a few years ago about not wanting my house to be a museum of my parents' things. This room feels like the thread tying it all together. We will be empty nesters in just a few years and will likely be downsizing, and I realized this is the one room I'll probably miss the most. It's also Brian's favorite spot for a Friday evening cocktail or Sunday morning coffee.
15 years. There is so much my mom missed. Most of all, she missed getting to hear her daughter (ie me) say the words every mother hopes and deserves to hear: "Mom, I get it now." My relationship is so different than mine was with my mom - it's so much easier, so much less drama. Of course Alex isn't me as a teenager, and I'm not my mom. I've tried to avoid making some of the same mistakes (although in doing so I have made different mistakes, which I suppose is the way of the world). So much of what I resented about my mom in the past I now understand as an adult and as a parent. When I was lighting candles tonight I flashed back to New Year's Eve when I was in my late teens or early 20s. My mom, Oma, and I were at Rainer's apartment, and I really wanted to light candles in one of the beautiful candelabras our Tante Erna had made. Oma said no, because the wax would be a pain to clean. I was thoroughly bummed out because I wanted to make things at least a little bit festive. My mom was caught in the middle - I could tell she really felt for me, and she was frustrated with her mom, but she didn't want to create stress with her mom. At the time, I did understand that my mom felt bad for me. But now I have the perspective of all three of us - I remember the feeling of being a teenager aching for more excitement and feelings lots of FOMO (which wasn't a word yet but was certainly a feeling), I know the feeling of being the daughter caught in the middle of wanting to appease both child and parent; and I understand the feeling of wanting to keep things simple and not wanting to add more work. Even though I'm not yet (hopefully someday) a grandmother, I can only imagine how joyful but also taxing our visits must have been.
My mom has missed Alex's life - almost her whole life. Thank God she at least got to meet her, but she never got to know Alex, and Alex never got to know her. Even though she knew Nick, she missed out on all but 4 years of his life. She never saw our new house. She also missed on these dark days of hate and divisiveness of our country. She was an immigrant, and she advocated for immigrants' rights in what seems now like a very calm era. She knew that her experience as a white immigrant from Germany was worlds away from what it would be if she came from a different part of the world. Before "white privilege" was part of everyday vocabulary, she understood that she had it. All the hateful rhetoric, attacks on journalists and immigrants and watching our Capitol get besieged, and what has happened to her beloved, world-class institution of Indiana University, would have devastated her.
She would have been especially devastated by the losses of Juliet and Carrie. Juliet was family to her. She died when Juliet was engaged to Chris, and their engagement party just a month before she died made her so incredibly happy. She would have loved to be a part of Juliet and Chris's beautiful wedding, and she would have been so happy to see the beautiful life they built. She would have felt so deeply for Cindy, Diane, and Bob, and for Nick and Cynthia and Ada and Jasper, as they came to terms with a life that would include the memory but not physical presence of Juliet. She would have kept Cindy in her heart, and she would have known how to share her empathy for Cindy and her joy for any step towards happiness that Cindy took in this new normal.
She would have been devastated when Carrie had her stroke. She would have felt deeply for Linda and Dan, for John, for Sarah and Jon and Carrie's nieces and nephew. Carrie's celebration of life would have resonated deeply with her. She would have been so proud of Carrie's academic success and her political passion and work. And she would have mourned deeply when Carrie died. She would have also found joy in Cindy and John forming a bond and falling in love.
I read an article in The New Yorker years ago that when a person dies, you start to measure their loss by all of the things they have missed. That resonates deeply.
And what of me? I know there are so many things that would have made her really proud. I know she would feel deeply for my being my dad's only support. I know she would want to be my support and my sounding board. I know I would have had a hard time letting her. I know our relationship would still not be perfect, because there was this weird thing between us that was hard. But I also like to think I would have let her in just a little bit.
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