I was the youngest of three children.  My mother, sister and brother are no longer with us, nor my husband, my sister-in-law Kay and my brothers-in-law Bob and Dick. I have one surviving sister-in-law but our families have never been close, either in distance or in spirit. Only one of my sons-in-law has a surviving parent, whom we all like very much. I feel that I have become a matriarch with respect to my three daughters and sons-in-law, four granddaughters and one grand-son-in -law who also has no living parents. 

Several years ago, I invited my niece and nephew to join my daughters in a weekly email conversation about what’s going on in our lives. One son-in-law, one niece-in-law and one first cousin once removed (of my daughter’s generation—also with no living parents) asked to join the weekly exchange.

There are rules for just about every relational role in a woman’s life—daughter, sister, wife, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law parent, grandparent—but few of us become a de facto matriarch (and even fewer men become patriarchs!). I didn’t get much grand mothering. One grandmother died before my parents were married, and the other was not the grandmotherly type, despite her 14 grandchildren.  Guidelines have been hard to come by as the generations continue to stretch on.

I learned a useful concept from studying Stoic philosophy.  Each day, think about roles and rules. I have many roles—not just the family ones but friend, community member, economist, writer, engaged citizen, voracious reader, sporadic teacher, lifelong learner.  Each role has its own rules, which in Stoic philosophy call for the appropriate virtues and the ways they are called for in our roles.  So I thought I needed to reflect on this particular role and the rules that it called for. Let me be clear. These rules are aspirational or intentions. I do  not claim to practice all of them all of the time, but as I feel my way around in a somewhat different role than I have had in earlier times, I do my best. Here they are.

1. My first rule is to respect their boundaries, always willing to help but not to interfere. It’s a delicate balance. For example, I treasured having the freedom to choose my major in college, partly because I went on a combination of  my own earnings and scholarships.  I wanted the same freedom for my daughters, and my granddaughters, whose education we financed for the daughters and helped with for the next generation. No conflict there. Three daughters who chose to major in, respectively, art, music, and anthropology were not about to limit their daughters’ choices—one just an associate degree, the others in theater, education, and a the youngest a dual major in anthropology and Japanese.
2. My second rule is to be open to change and accommodation around holidays. Theye are holidays, which had to be parceled out equally once the daughters got married and had in-laws with an equal claim. My mother remained a very central part of my Christmases well into my fifties, needing to be the center of attention, and I vowed to honor my daughters’ need for their own family time. We celebrate Easter now because that’s when my daughter and son-in-law in New Jersey can get away, joining us on Zoom a couple of times over the Christmas  holiday. As we await the birth of the first great-grandchild, I recognize that my role in Christmas will continue to shrink, and I approach that with a mixture of relief and regret. We have been through a steady and gradual shift to emphasizing being together rather than food and gifts and other structured activities. I cook less and buy fewer gifts.  Once I said that I wanted to smallify Christmas, a particular preference of my oldest daughter. My youngest granddaughter, who was about five, asked her mother, “Is smallify a word?” and her mother said” If Grandma says it’s a word, it’s a word.”
3. Stories are a must.  My youngest daughter compiled a genealogy that has encouraged all of us to claim our heritage, especially the Scots-Irish part. My mother was a good storyteller and I have tried to carry on that tradition. My niece and I and my oldest daughter and her daughter have visited and fallen in love with the Scottish motherland from which that side of the family emigrated to America in the late1700s.
4. I want them to know how grateful I have been for all of them.  On Mothers’ Day, when I remember, I thank my daughters for teaching me how to be a mother. I see traits, attitudes, hobbies, skills and physical characteristics that remind me that DNA is eternal life.  They all share my politics and most of my values. One granddaughter and I have a cowlick on our foreheads that trace back to my father. Carla’s music can be found all over the family.  We used to joke that had had her mother’s ear and her father’s rhythm, while the opposite combination would have left her no hope for a music career.  Christine’s art comes in part from her great-grandfather Christian who somehow supported a family on ten as an artist. The family stories were passed on by mother but codified by my youngest daughter, who went on to a career as a librarian but also a midlife second career as a photographer, both fed by her love of stories, pictures, and data.
5. he most important tasks of my duties as matriarch now center around my aging and eventual death.  I live in a retirement community that makes my friends and neighbors very aware of their own and one another’s limitations and challenges. We all want to stay independent as long as we can, and some of us imagine that we can when we really can’t. I have stopped depending on my sons-in-law who have limited ability to meeting my handyman needs and found people who will do it for cash—including, at the moment, my granddaughter and her boyfriend who are my designated personal assistants. I have handled three estates in my lifetime—my mother, my husband, and my best friend who died without a will and no close relatives other than a father in a nearby nursing home. A good matriarch leaves her family with clear instructions and arrangements. Hopefully at some earlier time, recognizing the possibility of becoming a widowed matriarch, she has boned up on finances so she is prepared to take on that kind of responsibility.  Being an economist with an independent career, that was not a challenge for me, but it has been for many women of my generations.

I have chosen a green burial and intend to purchase a plot in the near future.  I have updated my will and compiled all my passwords, accounts, and other financial instructions to hand over to my executor—the art major daughter with a recently added MBA and a good head for money. I am prepared to relinquish my townhouse and my car in favor of an independent living apartment in the not too distant future. In t e meantime. I work hard at maintaining my health and managing my resources, asking for (or paying for) help when I need it. I keep my mind and spirit active and engaged with a circle of friends and communities of shared interest.

Bering a matriarch is and is not about power. It is the commitment to be a responsible adult to the very end, living life to the fullest within the growing constraints imposed by an aging body. It is the power to support, affirm, and love my children and their spouses and children without trying to control their lives.  It’s also about joy. Healthy, retired adults have a great deal of freedom and opportunity to try new ventures, renew and enjoy old friendships and develop new ones, accompany friends on the journey of aging, explore new ideas, and often mentor some of the next generations who share their interests and value their wisdom.  It is joy for me of seeing two generations of woman children grow into responsible, confident, competent, joyful human beings living rich and meaningful lives and dealing with the challenges in thoughtful and responsible ways.

May each of you live long enough to become a Matriarch or Patriarch and to enjoy it to the fullest. As Robert Browning wrote, “grow old along with me, the best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made.”