"Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art."
-Eleanor Roosevelt
As I was walking into a department store an older woman had just taken her seat on the bench in the vestibule between the store and outside. I looked at her, smiled and delivered a greeting. She returned the greeting and went on to tell me nothing in the store was really on sale. I suspected as much, but I wanted to see for myself. Still, I let her go on about what she intended to buy, but did not because it was overpriced. She clearly wanted to talk.
At this point, my husband and the rest of my family had walked past me and into the store after parking the car. She continued to talk and I listened. She is the age my grandmother would have been if she were still living. One day my mother will be this age. I am drawn to her. I don’t want to leave her… So I don’t.
In the very back of my head I am thinking I asked my husband to bring me to the mall to return a couple of things. Now he is in the mall without the things I need to return with the task of handling a very busy two year old. I know that I am spending my mall time talking to this woman. I do not care.
I later realized that I didn’t go to the mall to return clothes. Those items remain in the back of my truck. I went to the mall that day to spend a few moments with a senior who was feeling lonely, mistreated and abandoned by her family. I went the mall to learn more about who I am.
I assumed she was waiting for someone on that bench. Don’t get me wrong she was spunky and spry for an individual near 90 years old, but she was near 90 and the afternoon was extremely hot. Finally, I asked, “Well, who are you here with? Are you waiting on someone to come get you?”
She exclaimed, “Oh NO! My kids don’t tell me what to do. I do what I want to do when I get ready. You see that Jag out there? The light colored car right there? That’s mine. I can take care of myself. And yeah, I forget things some times… I do, but ain’t nobody gon be telling me what to do.”
It is at this point that she wonders if she has misplaced her car keys. She starts patting herself checking all the reasonable places like her fanny pack and her bra. She found them.
“Yeah. They want me to stay home, but they ain’t gon come see me. They just waiting on me to ‘go on’ so they can have my car…. So they can have my stuff.” ***you can insert me saying “Oh no…. Yes Ma’am… I do understand” where you see fit.
LISTEN…. I was stuck after she said her children were waiting on her to die so they could have her stuff. Like, is this what seniors… what older parents are worried about??? Are children really taxing their beloved parents with worry about only wanting their possessions? Are children really only seeing their parents when they need or want something? Are children teaching their own children the same behavior? Because you know they’re watching you; right? They know your mother and or father live right down the street, but you won’t throw a glass of water when you ride by. You know you will be on the receiving end of this one day; right? Ok then.
I became crystal clear about a few things during our encounter. I am so much more like my mother than I ever thought I’d be. It isn’t that I didn’t want be like my mother. I just spent my entire life being told I was like my father. I have always admired her and used her as an example for the kind of heart I want to have. Welllll… to a limited extent.
My mom loves seniors. She always has and it used to drive me crazy. Well, not crazy, but more like… Whhhhhhhhy are you like this, Mom? Seniors talk alot, they’re usually bossy and they pretty much say whatever they want. My mother remains unbothered by these lil ladies and has never passed up an opportunity to help them. When she was a hairstylist she would send me to pick them up so she could do their hair, give them lunch and then I would take them home. All for free.
Me: Sooooooo… Imma go pick her up. You’re gonna give her lunch, do her hair and I’m gonna take her home and she’s not going to pay you? Mom, this sounds like a not for profit or something. In fact, this is worse than that because you have to spend money to do all of this.
Mom: Ms. Johnson will be waiting at the door. Make sure you help her get in the car.
Also Me: Yes Mommy.
My mother is not to be fooled with.
So yesterday’s 30 minute session with Ms. Wright showed me just how much of my mother’s daughter I am. I enjoyed the time we spent together and only went on my way when she dismissed me. #TrueStory I figured when you get to be her age people should listen when you talk. And yes… seniors still talk as much as they did when I was a teen, but the wisdom that flows from them is worth my time.
Funny. This is actually the second time this summer I spent an unplanned, extended amount of time with a senior at the mall. The first one involved a senior who forgot where she parked her car. My husband walked her through the parking lot while I drove each aisle looking for her red Caddy. Who knows how long she might have looked if we hadn’t offered to help. She was looking on the wrong side of the mall.
I have learned what my mother always knew— Our elders need us.
They deserve our deference, our attention, our patience and our time. Call them. Visit with them in spaces they feel welcome. Sit down and talk with them because you love them; not because you need them to watch the kids or help with financing extracurricular activities. Hearing a parent talk about children who are “too busy" for them is heartbreaking. One of her children is an aeronautical engineer. Very successful children have no excuse. Your parents are a huge part of the reason you can do what you do. #NeverForget
Also, lean in…. Get your shit together so your parents/grandparents won’t think you’re waiting on them to die so you can have their stuff. They built a life and tried to give you an example hoping you would build your own. You’re an adult. Your parents have already given you everything they owe you. These are facts.
You have been loved. Now, it’s your turn.
I'm not here because I'm an expert. I'm here because I have experiences. -Stephanie