Photo and original text in Spanish by Guillermo Peña.
Translation to English by Sergio Cadena
My dear girl, the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through. If when we talk, I repeat the same thing a thousand times, don’t interrupt to say: “You said the same …thing a minute ago”… Just listen, please. Try to remember the times when you were little and I would read the same story night after night until you would fall asleep.
When I don’t want to take a bath, don’t be mad and don’t embarrass me. Remember when I had to run after you making excuses and trying to get you to take a shower when you were just a girl?
When you see how ignorant I am when it comes to new technology, give me the time to learn and don’t look at me that way … remember, honey, I patiently taught you how to do many things like eating appropriately, getting dressed, combing your hair and dealing with life’s issues every day… the day you see I’m getting old, I ask you to please be patient, but most of all, try to understand what I’m going through.
If I occasionally lose track of what we’re talking about, give me the time to remember, and if I can’t, don’t be nervous, impatient or arrogant. Just know in your heart that the most important thing for me is to be with you.
And when my old, tired legs don’t let me move as quickly as before, give me your hand the same way that I offered mine to you when you first walked. When those days come, don’t feel sad… just be with me, and understand me while I get to the end of my life with love. I’ll cherish and thank you for the gift of time and joy we shared. With a big smile and the huge love I’ve always had for you, I just want to say, I love you … my darling daughter.
An additional comment:
If the young woman really “sees” she realizes that she is looking into a mirror that reflects her future.
I can identify with what the older woman is saying (especially about technology), but would like to add a thought of my own. Maybe some of you would like to make additions, too.
“When as your mother, I express an opinion or make a suggestion, please don’t show a lack of regard for my input. Replace the “‘I’ll do it my way” response with, ‘That’s a good idea,’ or ‘That’s an interesting thought.’ Do you remember how I listened to you and gave you support and encouragement?”
My grandchildren’s Grammy, in other words—my counterpart—passed away on Father’s day. Up until the last half year of her life, she was a vital woman and a go-to grandma. She and her husband were married for nearly 44 years–two months less than I have been married to mine. He wrote her eulogy, a beautiful tribute to his wife and their marriage. The eulogy was hard for him to deliver at the funeral; he did it, but broke down. My 6-year old granddaughter sat beside me, my arm around her holding on tight. She cried when she saw her grandfather cry. My 3-year-old grandson was a little wiggly in my lap; he being too young to understand.
Really, none of us “understands.” Sure we know that we all live, and then we all die. But we would drive ourselves to madness if we tried to make sense of the who’s and the how’s and the why’s, or the “fairness” of it all.
It’s also so hard to know what to say to someone who is unexpectedly diagnosed with cancer and decides not to undergo treatment. So I tried to express my feelings by telling her:
“I am thinking about…
how overwhelmed you must have felt at the seemingly sudden onset of your disease;
how difficult it has been for you to decide what path to take;
the strength of your convictions in deciding your course of action;
your incredibly difficult decision and the courage of your choice;
how you are living life on your own terms;
the wonderful job you have done raising your children who have pulled together in providing support, in respecting your right to choose, and in demonstrating their unconditional love for you;
how much your daughter loves you;
how I hope my son is able to tell you how deeply he loves and respects you, but that if he cannot find his way to speak of his emotions, that you will trust me when I say that he does;
how I will always tell our grandchilden how much love their Grammy has for them and how much joy they have given you.”
And then, at a later date, when the end was drawing near, I sent:
“A Heartfelt Message”
You have given our family a precious gift—YOUR DAUGHTER.
Your kind and gentle nature lives through her.
You have instilled in her the values of love, patience and honesty.
And so it passes—from mother, to daughter, to granddaughter.
Strong women, all.
I can only hope that these words somehow helped. I think they are what I would like to hear.