It took me a long time to understand, realize, and grudgingly and sometimes bitterly accept that the people who are not there for us now were already not there for us. They were not part of our daily lives. They were not part of our weekly lives. And we were not part of theirs either. They were not invested in our lives, and we were not invested in theirs. Everybody has their own lives, worries, tragedies, families, and priorities. We are no longer the center of their universe, and they are no longer the center of our universe.
People and lives spiral away as time goes by, growing more distantly apart. When they are no longer an integral part of our lives, we are no longer an integral part of theirs. They live their own lives, and we live ours. They survive without us being there, and we have survived without them being there.
If we take illness and dementia out of the equation, how often were they coming to see the grandparent, parent, aunt, uncle, or sibling on a daily basis, weekly basis, or even yearly basis? Were they only visiting every holiday, or some holidays, perhaps once a year, or once every five years? On holidays, birthdays, or anniversaries, did they send a card or make a call?
When you move away, that tree your family planted in the yard when you were a kid, you didn't take that tree with you. You didn't abandon it; you simply moved away from it. It survived without you, and you survived without it, independently. The same goes for that toy or stuffed animal that you loved as a child and now love again when you see it. You visit for a holiday, see it, love it again, and remember the good and bad times. Then you leave home and forget all about it until the next time you visit.
Out of sight, out of mind. Out of mind, no longer on our priority list. Other things in our own lives take up that entire list. There often isn't room for another addition to it.
I decided on my own to become the primary caregiver for my father. I made the decision. I made the choice. My father is at home, not at a care facility or nursing home; that was my choice and my decision; mine alone. I did blindly assume that everyone else, friends, and/or family, would change their lives to help with my father when we needed help and time. I assumed that he was on their mind as much as he was on my mind. I assumed that he would become one of their priorities because now he needed to be taken care of. I didn't consider that those friends and family have other concerns, other priorities, and other people they are responsible for, and to.
People who visit only on the holidays, or once in a great while, when they have the time or feel that they have to, are exactly that: visitors. They come and then they go away.
The same applies to me. It applies to my dad too. Neither of us were invested in the day-to-day lives of friends and family. Friends who do things with you, those are social friends. They do not come when there is nothing of benefit for themselves. They do not come for hardship; they come for fun or engagement, not to change an adult diaper. They are social friends, not blood and bone friends. Fair-weather friends, as we used to call them.
I have come to realize that there is also a thing called fair-weather family. They are social family, coming for the holidays, coming for the occasional visit, sending a card, leaving a voicemail. They might have sympathy and concern, but that is on the surface. It is not deep down and life-altering concern, care, or love. They are distant - even if they are closely related.
They've spiraled away. They are still there, but they are not here.
No one was here except on holidays and special occasions before, so why would they be here now because dementia comes into our lives? No one was visiting and helping before, when dad got older, frailer, and less wealthy. They have their own lives, their own worries, their own expenses, their own family, and their own friends. Those become their priorities, not the family members of the past who are not there daily in their lives.
We family caregivers, we share about our troubles, our burdens, our failures, and our depression and anxiety. Our family and friends who are not caregivers tend to share more positives than negatives. They don't share their negatives with people they are not close to. I think most of us family caregivers used to do the same thing, before we became family caregivers.
Their circle is bigger than our circle. We know what is in our circle. We don't know what is in theirs. They move off, form their own circle, and add partners and friends to their circle, who themselves have their own circles. They remain in our circle but also have their own circle and are part of other circles. They have parents and aunts and uncles, nephews and nieces, sisters and brothers that are now in their circle, but not in ours.
Thanksgiving and Christmas are good examples of this: This year, they come to our house for Thanksgiving and go to their partner's family for Christmas. One year they can go to one, so they go there instead of here. It is a balancing act for them, and sometimes it tips in the other direction for a lot of different reasons.
As much as I feel like it, I can't really fault people for not changing their entire lives just for me and my dad. They have their own lives, their own responsibilities, their own obligations to others who have no relationship to me or mine.
I asked myself this seriously: If a sister of mine was married and her mother-in-law, who I only know fleetingly, a holiday-based relationship, had dementia and my sister and her husband were her live-in caregivers, would I uproot my life to help them? I will honestly say, no. I would not.
My life, my circle, that is my priority. If a person is not in my day-to-day life, they are not a priority of mine. I do not have the time, the money, or the free emotional space to be able for it to be otherwise. I understand and do not expect it to be different for anyone else.
It is frustrating, though. When we see and hear someone talk about going on vacation or doing something that doesn't include coming to see us, it can be annoying. But I have a clear enough mind to know that it is just not them alone, it is their own family, their kids, their friends, their business associates, who are part of that. Their priorities and responsibilities and needs are not the same as ours.
Drifting, spiraling away, doesn't mean estrangement. Not completely. I love and care for many people who I don't really know what their current day-to-day life and concerns and worries and burdens are. I am there, but not here with them.
If they are not here with you now, they will not be here with you later. And vice-versa. That is a very hard pill to swallow.
If you read all of this stream of consciousness, I appreciate it. I am sure other people have other thoughts on this, different feelings and opinions. I am open for enlightenment and honest open dialog. This is a tough subject to wade through.
