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I was talking with a good friend at the Danish festival. She was struggling because she was about to take her little girl to college in a few days. She was extremely close to this child. They did tons together and were deeply rooted in each other’s daily lives and routines. This mother and daughter had also survived cancer – the daughter when she was just a child. I’m sure it tied them together in a way that others can’t begin to understand.
So this is for my friend. I wrote it when I took my baby to college. I am still overcome with emotion when I read it.
• • • •
Here are all the moms and dads who just took the hand of your little ones on the first day of kindergarten and let go. I remember those days well. They were scary, painful, sad and full of change and novelty for me and my little one. But today I am in a different place.
Here’s to all of you moms and dads who drove your older ones to college, unloaded the van, helped them get settled in, then left them and went home. The start is hard, an emotional letting go. The return home is worse: silence, tears, memories. Coming home is even worse. Empty drawers. Empty walls. Empty rooms. Technicolor souvenirs. Panoramic loss.
There is a silver lining to that, I’m sure. More time for me. More time for us. Less rush. Less mess. Less laundry. Less cooking. But less life.
I feel like a part of me has been exhausted, the maternal part. It was my playground. Now it’s empty.
“I’m going. You did a good job. Thank you very much. I don’t need you anymore. I’m alone now. Goodbye.”
My maternal part is in shock today. This may have been my best part.
He does not know what to do with this new expanded role. He doesn’t like change. He loved active mothering.
I tell myself that today is a new beginning, a new time of life. I have to pull myself together: career goals, personal goals, things to do around the house, friends to see, places to go. Life goes on. But it turns out differently and it will never be the same again.
Today, I cannot enter my new life. I need time to cry, to heal my wounds, to wallow in my memories, to focus on my loss, the joys and regrets.
Was I a good enough mother? Probably not. Did I teach them everything I should have? Probably not. Did I tell them how much I love them? Probably not; it is an impossible task, after all. They can never really know depth. If they’re lucky, someday they will when they experience parenting on their own.
My life has been rich these 18 years. Rich with this joyful face so full of life and all its experiences. Rich in occupation. Rich in children’s events. Rich in juggling. Rich in cats. Rich with joy.
How do some parents deal with children leaving home with such ease? If only I knew. I feel like I’ve been cut to the bone. Gaping wounds. Sorrow boils in everything I try to do.
I am happy for my child. I am really. My feelings are purely personal. They are purely selfish. I cry for myself. I dance for them. This is what I want for them. I’m just sad that I have to pay a high price for letting go in order to let them have it.
Epilogue: Ah, ready or not, life goes on. My baby just took her little girl to kindergarten. Looks like I was crying just to take her to college – now she’s on the other end of that monumental moment.
Endings are difficult for me, when and how they come. I found that I cherished the whole journey of parenthood and the wonderful, close relationships we still have with our children. It is a joy that I could not have imagined 18 years ago. The family as we know it has changed. It has grown bigger and is now full of the adult life of our children and the lives of their children. My oldest grandson has just started his last year of high school. Our youngest grandson will be three years old in a few days.
The parenting cycle continues. I now know it doesn’t end when we leave them in college or kindergarten. I grew up. I learned when to hold on tight, when to let go.
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