Letting Go

‘Tis the season of transitions –high school and college graduations, weddings at every turn and I am reminded of what that means. As a parent it means pride and joy melded with perhaps one of the hardest things I have faced over the years  Those big transitions serve as reminders that my kids are not only growing up and away, but also that they need me to let them go. A reminder I still need even when they are in their 30’s!  Even though I was acutely aware of what was coming, when the cap and gown or wedding attire was at last adorned, they serve as visible signs that life as I have known it will not be the same.  While I might have prepared and wanted the day to come it sometimes feels like being jolted with a new reality of the child I raised from birth moving on—often physically away from home.  It is ironic. We raise our children to be strong and independent-- to grow and explore the world and yet when they do, it feels like loss. Smiles of pride and satisfaction mingle with tears of loss and yes, tears of joy. You would think after all these years, it would be easy. 

When our oldest, Justin, left home after graduating from high school I was a bundle of energy held together by a thread. I simply could not imagine life in our house without him bounding in with some outrageous comment or getting that exuberant daily hug. The summer before he left our whole family was on edge until one day the four of us were in a full blown battle over hiking boots—don’t even ask because I couldn’t tell you what it was about. But suddenly in the midst of all the yelling,  clarity dawned and I interjected loudly, “This is not about hiking boots. Justin is leaving in a week.” Instantly the argument lost all steam. It was not about the hiking boots.

Two years later when Melanie left for school in Colorado College, again I was a mess imagining the unbearable thought of her smile leaving the house for months on end.  For weeks I told a therapist I was seeing how distraught I felt; how even with a husband and job I loved, I was sure that my life would be empty. After listening, as only a therapist can, session after session as I tried to sort though my mixed feelings she told me that several years before, when her last daughter graduated from college, she announced to her husband on the way home from the graduation ceremonies that she never needed to cook again. What was the point with such an empty house? It was perhaps one of the most reassuring things anyone said to me during that time. Here was the most put together person I knew saying that at least for a while she thought her life was over. And yet, she survived even thrived. Hearing her belief that her mother/daughter relationship was even better now, gave me such courage and hope. And yes, she was still cooking. Of course she proved to be right about it all. 

When Justin got married nine years ago today,  (Happy Anniversary!!) they were living close by and we had time to get to know Farracy. Spending time together, I began to imagine just how enriching it might be to add another daughter to the family. How prescient that was! Not only has she made my son happy, she has been such a blessing and joy in my life and a sister Melanie never had. Not to mention she brings extraordinary boys into the world. Being part of their growing family is pure blessing. 

Much because of our experience adding a daughter-in-law, I was looking forward to adding a son-in-law in Ben. So I was surprised in the months leading up to Melanie and Ben’s wedding, when I found myself uneasy—not about Ben-- but about the fact that Melanie would no longer be putting Chris and me down as next of kin on all the forms she would fill out for the rest of her life. For the first time in 31 years, we would not be the first ones notified if she was in trouble, got sick, or had a complication when being treated for an illness. I love Ben believing that he is the person meant to be Melanie’s husband and partner, but after seven years with her living with cancer, I have become used to watching over Melanie as she has navigated that part of her life. Even though, she has been the one to schedule all her appointments and manage her medical life, when it comes to cancer, I have stayed vigilant, and I doubt that will change since I can’t help myself. But what will change is that now she and Ben are dealing with this together; Chris and I will be there for them when they need us, but we will back up. That is right and as it should be, but it will take some getting used to.

But then again, maybe it is all part of that same letting go thing that began when I first dropped her off at nursery school. My illusions of control and my ability to protect my children have always been just that –illusions—not reality.  Still, it takes some faith and maybe a bit of poetry to move ahead. This from Mary Oliver.

To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go.

From 'In Blackwater Woods’

So once again, I will try letting go. But like I said—I'll always be a mom. Always.