Sonny Days

I’ve noticed recently that both Frasier and Niles have pulled back a bit in their communications with me; they would both immediately deny this, and yet it is true. For them, time is rushing past and they are totally absorbed in their partners, jobs and friends – and rightly so.

I understand this and well remember that the Starter Husband only communicated with his own parents at 3 pm every-few-dozen-Sundays when the flickering guilt refused to be tamped down any longer. (And to be fair, they made sure to call us weekly. But I do not envy the quality of those conversations either which basically involved asking: “How are you getting on at work?” in varying ways).

For Frasier and Niles, weekends are festive but necessarily marked by the stocking up of food, the cleaning of bathrooms and hopefully, spectacular afternoons spent in bed, followed by an ÜberEats delivery.  But, because I am now getting older, not only does this lack of contact make me feel irrelevant, the whole thing is such a tired, grasping cliché. I always felt certain that someone of my own extreme coolness might be spared from such things – unlike that poor wretch Harry Chapin.

What I fear most – aside from having stilted conversations about the weather – is that stealthy downwards glance at the phone/watch and the “going soon?” nod to your partner. I have already had the first whiff of this when Niles enquired casually, some time ago, if one of our family dinners would be an “all day” thing or if maybe we could just do a quick brunch this time?

Please wait while I adjust the ice pick in my chest cavity …

I’ve long maintained that parental wisdom simply cannot be passed along. We all think that it can, of course, but I must insist that it cannot. This extends to well intended money advice, matters of the heart and the value of post-secondary education. Certainly, the phrase “When I was  your age …” is almost guaranteed to flat-line any conversation in its tracks and cause texting to cease entirely. I will continue to try to explain my own feelings to the boys but I am not sure they have the necessary life experience yet to be empathetic.

Having said that, a very wise friend recently told me: “Our children will change – and then change again.”

I tried to explain how I was feeling to Niles – why it was so hurtful to have our relationship alter in any way since we have always been so close and how a text reply – at the very least – was essential, after not hearing anything from him for weeks.

By the time I had finished making my case (in a socially distant manner) I was a bit weepy, (not theatrically, you understand) but it was clear that I had made him uncomfortable, as only sensitive-boys-trying-not-to-be-sensitive can be.

I thought it was because he could not process or understand what I was saying. But he looked at me with such love and concern and apologized profusely for not being in touch. Then, he added carefully: “But Mum, you should just do stuff too – stop thinking so much.”

There was definitely a Zen aspect to this sound counsel that resonated with me deeply because ultimately, he is right and the simplicity of it both surprised and impressed me.

But still – even if “old age ain’t no place for sissies” as Bette Davis famously observed, a meaningful conversation with someone you love changes everything!

And that’s all it takes.

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