The Waiting Game

An older friend of mine (older in that she’s closer to being 100 than I am) recently received celebratory news: Her granddaughter was coming to town.

She could hardly wait for the arrival of the young woman she hadn’t seen for years. There’d been a family rift between other generations and communications had been uneasy. However, now the younger generation was crossing the divide. She would be staying with her aunt’s family in town, which left my friend on the outside.

I’m sure this was a benign decision made for the same well-intentioned reasons we’ve all used at one time or another: Shouldn’t stay with Grandma—too much chaos for her; don’t include Grandma in all we do—too much activity for her; don’t invite her shopping—it’s too much walking for her; she won’t want to go to the movie with us—her hearing, you know; yada yada yada.

For my friend, this decision (made with her best interests at heart) meant that her eagerness quickly turned into anxiousness. It raised a million questions in her mind, among them: Is she here yet? Have you heard from her? How was her trip? How does she look? Are we having dinner together tonight? When will she come to my house? Do you want me to come over there? What can I bring? What are the plans for tomorrow? Until my friend received a phone call, these questions would rule her thoughts.

You know those moments in movies when two characters brush against each other and something incredible and momentous happens? One sees into the future of the other, or the accountant becomes a superhero, or the entire past of one is revealed to the other, or the frog becomes a teenage idol. I had one of those moments with my friend. In a single flash, I FELT all of her anxiety, hurt, joy, pain, relief, frustration, and excitement. It made me want to call her family and say, “Please don’t forget to call her regularly. She awaits your news every moment. It’s all she thinks about. She’s afraid to stray too far from the phone for fear of missing your call. She won’t make plans with her friends because you’re her first priority and she plans to be available to you for anything you choose to do. She’s put her life on hold for you. Please keep her informed with a quick call.”

In my own family, whenever one of the grandchildren was returning home for a visit, my mother would get irritated by the repeated phone calls she received from my grandmothers: “Is he there yet?” Have you heard from her?” I understood their calls at the time, but I never FELT their anxiousness and desperation until now.

As much as I felt my friend’s pain, I more deeply feel the pain of my grandmothers—and regret all the occasions on which I may have been the cause of it.

As for my friend, I hope she comes out on the other side of this reunion with no memory of the downside it initially caused. I hope she remembers only the comfort and delight of having her granddaughter once more within hugging distance.

[Art by Edouard Vuillard.]