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If one thing is true about Emily Gilmore, it is the fact that she will never get over the pregnancy of her teenage daughter and subsequent departure without warning and only a note of explanation.
Never.
And if one thing is true about Lorelai Gilmore, it is that she will always feel a mixture of guilt and relief about those same events.
Always.
And that is why, when her mother's world begins to slowly crumble, Lorelai will never stand idly by and watch it happen. Not even when driven to the brink of anger and frustration and incredulity. Not even when her mother decides that buying a plane is the solution to all problems. Not even when her past mistakes are thrown at her for the quadrillionth time, not even then. Because deep down, Lorelai believes, no, knows how much she hurt her mother once upon a time, and she knows it is a hurt that doesn't go away. Knows firsthand because that pain is now her pain, a legacy of screwed up relationships that she dared to think had finally been abolished.
So Lorelai chooses to rise above the comments and hurt, although she leaves the self-congratulatory pat on the back for another time. She tries to make her mother listen, to understand that the way things are, are they way they were always meant to be. Her daughter was never supposed to replace her. Her mother wasn't supposed to take on the role she did. But things got so royally screwed up, and they all did the best they could. But even as the words trickle from her, she knows that they are not being heard. Her mother is stuck on some selfish replay where the only thing she sees or feels is how she has been hurt and wronged. No one else can know her pain.
Not the husband or daughter or granddaughter. Emily is alone. Emily is unique in her grief. Except, she isn't. And that is why Lorelai reopens the door.
That's why she'll never be lost, even when it's the most attractive place in the world to be.
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In truth, Emily knew that this was coming, could sense it floating just beyond the reaches of all things comprehensible. But she'd hoped, perhaps even convinced herself that this time she could make things right. Despite all the ways they were similar, Rory was not Lorelai. Rory respected her grandparents. Rory needed and wanted her grandparents in her life.
Lorelai did not. Not now, not then, not ever. Even as a baby, when the first curls had taken shape upon her brow, it was not Emily who placed the delicate bows, no, Lorelai had found the bag and adorned herself with dozens of the pink frills. What infant does that?
Every moment with Lorelai growing up was a battle. She seemed constantly at odds with all acceptable behavior, and it put Emily on guard. She tried to instill in her daughter a sense of propriety and pose. She tried to show her daughter the proper way to behave, but failed miserable amid protests and tears and crumpled gowns. Lorelai would not behave. Lorelai would not be anyone but who she wanted to be.
Rory was different. Rory was moldable, flexible, willing. And at first, Emily couldn't quite believe her luck. Finally, she'd found that daughter she'd long dreamed for. Finally, she'd found her greatest work. Rory would become everything Emily was and more. Rory would become something. And that was everything.
But the cracks began to show. Slowly, imperceptibly. A sigh of impatience over a simple suggestion. The increasing complaints with each wake up call. The slightly sullen pout that would form at the sight of a new dress or invitation… These had not been present in the beginning but were growing with time. But the shift, when it occurred was abrupt. One day Rory was greeting guests at her 21st Birthday party, and the next she was having, well, relations with that Logan boy and, and then it all began to fall. The moodiness grew. Words became terse and impatient. Until one morning, she awoke to find her granddaughter simply just not there.
And that is when she realized that all of it had been an illusion. A cipher of unfulfilled hopes and dreams and she had nothing to show for it. Her husband was away once again and thought her life pointless, her daughter refused to speak to her and thought her life frivolous, and her granddaughter was gone and thought her life not good enough.
So, she picked up the phone and arranged to view a plane. For what else was she to do?