Reflection on Keepers - Family Legacies

Are you a Keeper?

Florence and Janie the Keepers on this blog placed themselves and their children in a coherent story of family and community history. In telling and retelling family stories, they remind themselves and everyone who listens of the past that they treasure. When they or someone they love falls away from the family, or from what they see as a good life, they weave these periods of distress into an ever widening family story. Their capacity to hold onto good and bad stories arises from their belief that life naturally is made up of the good and the bad. Their stories combine difficult experiences with hope for a better future.

Revisiting ideas of family
Florence and Janie told stories remarkably different from my own, and I wondered how I could build on their stories of the past, but they convinced me that writing a new survival story meant that I had to revisit my ideas of family, something that we all must do if we want to gather wisdom from the Keepers.

Some questions we might ask about our ideas of family could include: Have we chosen to live near to or far away from our family? Have we resolved family conflicts so that our relationships remain open and loving, or do we distance ourselves and close the door to our future closeness? Do we have the option to call upon family members when we need them? Which past stories of family can we call upon in strengthening connections to our family history? If we do not find useful family stories, what stories from other cultural histories give us stories for survival? If our families-of-origin are not available to us, do we have families of our own choosing to whom we can turn when we are in need?

I started out by reflecting on how my ideas about family were influenced by the Keepers who navigated the ups and downs of family life with family members nearby. I had always believed that success in a family should be measured by each person’s capacity to live independently. I now embrace an idea of family developed by Lee Combrinck Graham, a colleague of mine[1] who describes family development as a spiral that moves family members apart and together depending on their needs.

As young adults, my husband Ron and I thought nothing of moving far away from our families. We never questioned our ability to manage on our own. We left first to live in Lagos, Nigeria and then moved to California, many miles from where we had grown up and where our parents still lived. We visited them when we could, but we didn’t depend on them. We celebrated our independence and felt only a little guilty when one of our mother’s told us how much she missed us. I assumed that they would always be there if I needed them. We measured our success as adults in terms of our independence.

When Ron became ill, the physical distance from our families troubled us. We wished that our parents and siblings lived closer, and they wished the same. Our notion that we didn’t need our families turned out to be another delusion of good fortune. Part of our reason for living far from our parents had been our complex and troubling relationships with them. I needed distance because I was too dependent on my parents. Ron needed distance because he was too estranged from his.

The Keepers led me back to my relationships with our parents during Ron’s illness. Their reactions to our painful situation surprised us. My parents, especially my mother, were devastated. As soon as they heard about Ron’s diagnosis they came to the Netherlands to be with us. My mother’s grief at what we were facing left her in tears. She wanted reassurance from us or wanted to make our suffering disappear. I had to ask her to leave a few days early because her upset was too much for me to handle. I understood her distress, but I realized that I couldn’t depend on her. My parents visited only a few times once we returned to the U.S. before my mother had a stroke, perhaps brought on by her distress about us. I was wrong to have assumed that they would always be there when I needed them.

On the other hand we were able to repair our broken relationship with Ron’s parents. When Ron had told his Methodist mid-western parents that he was planning to marry Jewish me, his father had said that if he went through with the marriage he would disown Ron. We got through those early days, and Ron’s parents finally came to the wedding, but our relationship with them was always distant. They couldn’t understand why Ron had married a woman so different from anyone they knew. Ron’s illness brought them into the center of our lives. They immediately offered financial help when they realized the extent of home care that Ron needed. They also visited regularly. When they came they pitched in, doing simple household jobs and not asking much from us. Ron’s dependence allowed them to hug him again and feel close to him as they had when he was a boy. During those years, they returned to their relationship with him and developed a caring relationship with me.

The Keepers also remind us to look to our elders especially our grandmothers. But others besides grandmothers can become guides for when we are most pressed. I believe that each of us knows someone in our family or in our history upon whom we might call when we are afraid. I now ask beleaguered clients to choose a guide to travel with them. Each of us can find a guide to imagine when we need someone by our side. Who might you choose as your guide?

I am about to become a grandmother. My youngest daughter and her husband have chosen to live near us, so that we can be part of the life of their new son. Their willingness to invite us allows me to enter fully into being a grandmother, an opportunity that I denied my own mother. Like Janie and Florence, I imagine that I will tell stories of family history to my grandchild and that the growing stories will include him in our family tapestry. The Keepers will be my models for how to grandmother.

[1] Lee Combrinck Graham, Children in the Family Context. New York: Guilford press, 1989.