When grandma comes to visit…and stays

I don’t know about you, but my husband and I never wanted to have to live with our children.  Near them perhaps, but not with them. We understood that sometimes it is necessary, but we didn’t want it to be permanent.

During the Eaton Fire I was evacuated from the community in which I was living, and I had the good fortune to stay with my daughter, for what I assumed and hoped would be just a few weeks. Because of good construction, my building not only survived the fire, it is actually in excellent shape. But the water is not potable, so we cannot move back in yet. In the 8 weeks since we had to leave, our community of over 200 people have been placed in a lot of different locations — some in hotels, some in other similar life plan communities like ours. Some residents have had to move multiple times; others have faced challenges of accommodating to more spare environments — a bed, chair and TV and little to remind them of “home.”

I, on the other hand, have been extremely fortunate to be able to stay with my daughter in a studio in the back of her property the whole time. I have a desk, a chest of drawers, TV with Hulu and Roku, my own bathroom, and a little kitchenette with a microwave and toaster oven and small refrigerator. I can fix breakfast for myself, sometimes lunch. We eat dinner together. It has given me a sense of independence but also connection. I could not be more grateful.

It has also made me more aware of the isolation I had felt even before I evacuated. My best friend, my sister, died last June. Several weeks later my husband of 63 years died. I was left to figure out my life without them, something I am still struggling with. Even my daily routine had become daunting before the fire. Having awakened at 7 or 7:30 every morning so I could get dressed and start breakfast before my husband’s caregivers came to dress him was my routine. The rest of the day focused on getting him fed, clothed, with meds he needed, and trying to find things he could enjoy on TV from his lift chair in the living room. Not his ideal life. Not mine either. But we had each other. We could marvel at Steph Curry’s three pointers, Morikawa’s occasional golf wins, Neil DeGrasse Tyson’s many wonderful shows on YouTube. There was a routine.

Since the fire, not only am I not in my familiar surroundings, I have needed to establish a new routine. Sadly, I have lapsed into more lethargy than I expected. The exercise routine I had started before the fire with some gusto — I even went down at 8:30 AM one morning to the pool for exercise, something I had not done once in six years — that routine is now disrupted. My big event of the day is to do yoga on zoom or walk in the middle of the street with my walker (the sidewalks are too bumpy), avoiding the cars that don’t seem to mind or even notice that I’m there!

My community is slowly coming back. The buildings are open now to daily visits even though we can’t use the water in any way and can’t stay past 3:30 pm in the afternoon. The blackened swimming pool has been drained and scrubbed, awaiting new and useable water, warmed to the wonderful 88 degrees to which we had become accustomed! There are musical events starting up in the daytime. Staff are doing their very best to make it seem like old times.

It’s just not old times, nor is it going to be. The reality of living in the midst of a burned out community is one that many others have endured over time — after a tornado, an earthquake, a war. People somehow figure out a way to live and even thrive.  I look out at the streets around where I will be living, and I wonder how my own community will contribute to the lives of those much less fortunate. Will we ignore the devastation? Just not look out certain windows? Or will we find purpose and meaning in how we live in this new environment? Once we are back in our apartments, what will we do to contribute to the healing that is so necessary around us? For me, it’s a necessity to engage. I can’t live in isolation from what is going on around me. I have begun to ask my friends and neighbors for their ideas. Once we are back in familiar surroundings, how will we contribute?

Meanwhile, I stay with my daughter and grandson, trying my best not to intrude. But as fantastic as they have been, I am still here. I cannot be totally ignored, but I need to be as independent and productive as I can be. It has made me appreciate the fact that I do not need to live with my children; I can live on my own and I will be back living on my own soon. What of those who cannot do that? When grandma comes to visit, we all hope she can leave at some point. Not because we don’t love being together — we do. But we each need some space and finding that space is a challenge for every family.

Everyone has their own need for space and connectedness. Over the ages, families have lived together in the best and worst of times. This past year has taught me a lot about what it means to be alone and to be together. At times I prefer to be by myself; other times I crave togetherness. I will work it out. I always have. Your experiences and suggestions will mean a lot. Please share!