Stages of Love--IV

The last stage of love is what I'll call, Forgetful Love. Forgetfulness goes with people of a certain age, I'm told. Mother writes things down during the day that she wants to remember to tell me. When I call her, she hurries down her list in rapid-fire speed so she won't forget what she wanted to tell me. She gets annoyed at certain friends where she lives because they repeat themselves, yet she herself, tells me the same things every week.
It is a time of life when a parent says to a child, "Did I ever tell you about what my father used to do to the mailman?" The adult child says, "Sure. About gluing the letters to the mailbox." And the parent smiles and begins to tell the story, even though their son just said that they recalled the story and even can quote some of the wording that the parent uses in the telling of it.

From my observations, which are admittedly limited, it seems that elderly people love to tell stories not so much for transmitting information, but for the act of being engaged with others, and for leaving behind a legacy. It is not just poor memory that prompts older people to tell and retell their stories. In addition to providing a venue for communication, it allows them to do that all important developmental task: review their lives.

According to Erik Erikson, people in the last chapter of their life need to feel that their life had integrity--that it meant something positive in the larger picture, and that the total sum of their life was positive. The questions that may be spoken or unspoken, are things like, "Did my life matter?" "Will I be remembered for something good?" "Will my life have made a difference for anyone?" "Did all my hard work, all my efforts to live right--did these count for anything?" Those who have difficulty with their spouse, siblings or children usually have significant struggles feeling that their lives had positive meaning. These folks fall into despair and depression--one of the least addressed mental health issues of older Americans. So since a positive summary of life is critical to good mental health, perhaps this is why it seems that the elderly have so many anecdotes about their family members, or about the things they have accomplished--all with a positive spin.

And maybe this is also why so many of the stories that surviving spouses tell about their deceased life partners have a bit of a whitewashed quality to them. I have been surprised on several occasions to hear Mother exclaim quite forcefully that she never had such-and-such a problem with my father, when I distinctly remember events when they were irritated with one another or she was outraged at something goofy he had said, etc. "That's not true, Mother!" I'd remonstrate. She would look at me in surprise and correct me. "No, I have no recollection of ever having that issue with your father." In her memory, Daddy had not done anything objectionable in that arena, and she could not recall this behavior being problematic.

I've heard many older people tell rather expansive stories about their partners, most ending with a positive summative statement. Even though onlookers would say that one partner had irritated the daylights out of the other for years. Even though anyone else would have been driven to drink on account of the spouse. But this must be how forgetful love is. At the end of the day, when one looks back, maybe what stands out is that overall it was satisfying, enriching, heartwarming, and enduring. It is the evaluation of love as a whole, not in the moment-by-moment experience of it that the children record in their memory. It is the reflection of a life shared with someone who stayed with them, had faith in them, and saw them through tough times.

Forgetful love is the kind of love that God has for us, quite possibly. Our sins have been forgiven and we stand before Him as though we have never erred. One only has to read the Faith Chapter (Hebrews 11) to get a taste of that heavenly forgetful love. There is a whitewashed quality to the narratives there, even though some quite painful circumstances are referenced. This kind of love is a wonderful love, observed from the endpoint, not from the beginning or middle. It is as comfortable as an old shoe. It is informed by a lifetime of seeing others struggle in their marriages and being grateful for what one doesn't have to endure; of realizing that although some things have been difficult, overall, it was well worth the ride. It was a good thing.

This is an endpoint at which we shall all be fortunate to arrive one day.