Author: Belinda O

My mom and I talk daily, usually right around noon. The conversations are generally brief, and my mom frequently comments on how dull we both are. The thing is, I don’t think I’m that dull. I just know she has little genuine interest in what I’m doing in my life.

This fact first came to light when I was nine and came home in a rush after school one day. I plopped my books down on the kitchen table and began to regale my mom with a story from the day, something I was really excited about. It quickly became apparent she had no interest in what I was saying. I asked her if everything was okay, and she told me, quite plainly, she simply wasn’t interested in the things that interested me. I was devastated.

I shut down almost completely around her after that. A few times over the next couple of years I tried again, but got the same stony attitude. By the time I was in junior high, let alone high school, I shared little with her. Every great once in awhile she’d seem to show some concern about my life, but those times were rare and generally made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to them and didn’t trust her.

Recently I decided to try again. I started to tell her about some of the things happening in my life, only to hear dead silence from her end of the phone. When I finished talking, she said, “Well, I’m done,” and we said our good-byes. I spent the rest of my lunch hour trying to regain my composure so I could go back and be effective at work.

I don’t want it to end this way. I don’t want her to die and to live with the regret of not having effectively communicated with her. At this point I know I have responsibility for making it work–not all the responsibility, but my share–but I don’t know how to break through.

Now we’ve run into a problem where her memory isn’t that good. Every Sunday when I call I mention that I just got back from church, and she inevitably asks, “You go to church?” as if I haven’t been going for most of my life. I tell her yes, and try to share some social thing that’s going on, because I think that might draw her in to further conversation. It doesn’t.

I hope that I persist in trying to draw her in, but I get discouraged. I’m not sure I can change this dynamic, and for that matter, I’m not sure she wants to change anything. But all I can do is try.

Image Credits: Lonely Toy © CuratedAIMasterpiece–stock.adobe.com; Church © Valenty–stock.adobe.com

At work, I occasionally get caught up in the news and gossip page on my browser, which seems to specialize in mocking baby boomers. One of the most frequent articles to pop up is, “Things That Will Die When Baby Boomers Do.” It’s revised periodically. I admit, some of the things they list will die out with this older generation, such as writing checks. Or paying cash. My dad, who actually is older than the baby boomer generation, still prefers to write checks. Some of us boomers are used to paying through portals, but I get why not everyone trusts that method.

Of course in some cases you don’t have a choice. I have to pay my rent, for example, through a portal. I don’t like it. You have to agree to their terms or you can’t use that method of payment, yet that’s the only method available. It’s not that their terms are unreasonable. I just don’t like being forced to agree to something that is made to look voluntary but really isn’t.

I mentioned this to one of my young colleagues and she didn’t understand my irritation. “Do you disagree with the terms?” she asked. When I replied no, she thought I was making too much of it. Yet there are so many places where we’re forced to agree to a long list of things to use a particular service. How many of us take the time to really read these things? I skim them, but inevitably agree to whatever is put out there.

However, the reality is, this isn’t a new phenomenon. Back in the day, before electronic agreements were so commonplace, we signed lease agreements, loan papers and the like without taking the time to look at them closely. The first time I took out a car loan, I had no idea that was an option. I read all the fine print, much to the irritation of the loan officer, who pretended to compliment me on my thoroughness.

So some things aren’t really different generation to generation. Reading fine print isn’t listed as something that will die out with boomers, so I guess people know we’ve always been guilty of it and probably always will be. By “we” I mean the population at large, not one generation in particular. We can get taken advantage of so easily.

Image Credits: Header–Signing Document © furyon–stock.adobe.com; Payment Options © jenny on the moon–stock.adobe.com; Car Purchase © Prosymbols–stock.adobe.com

July brought the unthinkable to two friends of mine. The first, Justin, lost his 19-year-old daughter in a hit-and-run accident. She ran from the woods and onto the highway, where she was struck and killed. No one knows why she was running, and speculation has been rampant. Kalei was a beautiful young woman, sweet, kind, and generous. I knew her when she was younger and we all went to the same church.

Justin was in church today. He hadn’t been in awhile, and I believe it’s likely this event, in part, was what brought him back. Whether he comes again remains to be seen. He saw many friends from when he attended before and met several new people (who didn’t know what had happened but were glad to welcome him back). When I left the fellowship after church, I saw him smiling and talking to some new friends.

Another friend, Sherry Lynn, lost her 29-year-old son, Gavin, in a car accident. He was going around a bend and hit some wet pavement. lost control of his car and flipped over the embankment. He hadn’t been drinking and wasn’t speeding. It was simply a fluke accident, something that could happen to any of us. Gavin had three young children.

Both friends have posted frequently about their loss on Facebook, and I’m proud of them for that. Sharing their pictures and memories helps them and reminds the rest of us, who are so inclined. to keep them in our prayers. Grief is a process and neither Justin nor Sherry Lynn will be all right for a long time. But their friends will be there for them.

In times like these, I fear saying the wrong thing. I remember when my stepdad died, a friend, not knowing what had happened, asked me how my week had been. I told her about it, and her reaction was so thoughtless, so heartless, that I never spoke to her again. My pastor warned me people would say hurtful things, and he was right. I don’t want to be one of those people to any of my friends.

I believe I said the right things to Justin today, and my response to Sherry Lynn, while simple, was probably also okay. A sincere “I’m so sorry for your loss” is likely to be appreciated. What I want to say, what so many of us want to say, is something that will take away even a small portion of the pain. But I don’t know what those words are, so I don’t even try. Doing that could lead to something thoughtless.

I noticed on one of Justin’s Facebook posts a comment from a friend who had also lost a child. It was very practical and straightforward, and one of the few comments Justin responded to, which tells me it meant something to him. I can’t pretend I understand the pain, but some people do.

To those who’ve lost a child, my heart aches for you. To those who haven’t but hold their children a little tighter when they hear of such a loss, I’m grateful for your compassion. I hope we can all support those who are weeping.

Image Credits: Weeping Angel © alesia0604–stock.adobe.com; Sunflowers © Balaraw–stock.adobe.com

Aw, sweet baby, he wanted to sleep on my lap, but I’m knitting and there’s not room for both a cat and my project. But clearly he adjusted.

Sleep tight. Sweet dreams for a sweet baby.

Image Credits: Walter Sleeping © Belinda O; Sleeping Kitty © Print Prodigy–stock.adobe.com; Cesar Cat © Belinda O; Paws in Heart © Bigstock Photos

Happy Birthday to my sweet babies. The hardest part about you getting older is knowing our time together is getting shorter. I cherish every moment I spend with you.

And Happy Birthday to our feline blogging buddy, Parker, who turns eleven today!

Image Credits: Happy Birthday cats © May Chanikran–stock.adobe.com.