Of Elder Stateswomen and Matriarchs ; Musings from the Sandwich Generation

By: Cynthia Cavendish-Carey

When did it happen? Where exactly was the threshold that my generation crossed over to enter the realm of elder statesmanship? How did we find ourselves taking care of children and parents at the same time? Where did the safety net of the older generation go, leaving us to handle the big, important things on our own? Who will now let us know if we’re doing it right?

Growing up in a very large family (my father was one of nine), we were constantly surrounded by grandparents, aunts, uncles, countless cousins and extended family that came from the in-laws. Grown-ups were everywhere: guiding us, herding us and providing (sometimes harsh) discipline when any of us were out of line.

I guess it’s inevitable … as time passes, so does the torch. Over the past three years alone, my father’s family has diminished from its once formidable numbers. My grandmother passed away at age 103 in 2008, followed by an uncle and aunt within six months of one another in 2009. There are now three left from that generation, including my father.

As I sat in the hospital yesterday while my father had “a procedure,” it occurred to me that I am now part of what “they” call the Sandwich Generation. Still guiding and counseling our children, my generation also finds themselves caring for parents to whatever degree is necessary – or permitted by these once independent family members. As small children playing under the watchful eye of the family matriarchs and patriarchs, we never imagined that one day it would be up to us to meet with doctors, monitor medications and eating habits, or scolding our fathers for getting up on the roof when they are in their 70s. (All of which my brother and I have experienced in the last week alone.) The shoe is now most decidedly on the other foot and the wearing is unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

I think back over the decades when there was always a generation ahead of me – older, wiser, more experienced. In my family, these predecessors lived through famine in “the old country,” the Great Depression, were more aware of the 60s than we’ll ever be, marrying and having children far earlier in life than my generation did. While this generation is passing, their influence remains. In fact, the older I get, the more understanding and appreciation I have for the lessons they taught. My grandmother was not educated – illiterate, in fact – yet, she truly a wise woman who boiled down life into one guiding principle. “We are here to learn how to love,” she said in her broken English. In the journey that we are all on in this life, this lesson above all is one that has stayed with me. I didn’t really get it when I was ten, but I do now that I’m at the midpoint of my life, making tough calls when it comes to my parents, my child and my extended family.

I’m also becoming more conscious of the legacy that I and my generation will leave on the ones that follow. What will they remember of us as we pass into memory? It’s a compelling thought that has an impact on how relationships are built today and sustained over time. I’m reminded that there are many impacts, including economic, emotional, social and even practical … do I really want to force my son to deal with all my clutter someday?

I’m looking forward to a time when I can swing a grandchild around, have tea parties and wear funny hats and – hopefully – impart some kernel of wisdom that will help my granddaughter get through a tough time at her midlife point. It’s comforting to remember generations that have come before and to put my own actions into perspective with the hindsight of wisdom from all generations.

There is a quote that I love in the movie “Amistad.” At the highpoint of the film, the main character says emphatically that, at this moment, he is the reason that all of his ancestors came before. Similarly, the Hopi Elder Prophecy includes the line, “for we are the ones we have been waiting for.” Perhaps these ideas can help the Sandwich Generation navigate the rough waters of duty, wisdom and above all … love.

Cynthia Cavendish-Carey is a business and marketing consultant. She is working on her first novel, “Kachina and the Butterfly Maiden,” which is a young girl’s journey to find her own divine feminine.