It’s not the answer I wanted, but it is the answer that will make me stop asking the question.
Are you going to visit us?
Over the years, I have asked that question a lot. Maybe I am a glutton for punishment. Maybe I am just hopeful.
My father always answered - Not now. Next year. I have to think about it. It’s too cold. It’s too hot. I can’t sit in the plane like that. (he was a pilot with an active pilot’s license) I can’t go without your mother.
My response was - You’re not going to live forever.
I guess it is true.I am always right.
My mother always answered - Maybe later. When the weather gets better. Next year. I don’t know. I’m too old. I can’t sit in the plane. I’ll think about it.
I’m a parent. I know what “I’ll think about it” means. It means no. But I kept asking, hoping to hear a different answer. Something that would convince me that my parents really couldn’t visit us, not that they just didn’t want to visit us. That they didn’t want to see us or their grandchildren, see how we live, where their grandchildren go to school. It was just too awful. I had to keep asking because there had to be a reason.
My mother said that after she gets all the formalities of my father’s death taken care of, she just needs a short change of scenery. I invited her here complete with an offer to go there and fly back with her here.
Her answer, “It’s just not worth it”. No, not that it is not worth it for me to fly there just to fly back with her. No, no. “It is not worth it to be uncomfortable on the plane,” is the full answer. Too bad the “it” is us, her daughter, her grandchildren. We are not worth it. That’s a fact. I got my answer.