In the cool wee hours of the morning, with Orion directly overhead, I stood in my driveway and watched the tail lights of Andy’s SUV, move out onto the street and then out of sight. It’s a variation on a scene we’ve played throughout his life; my watching him leave me to head off on his own adventure.
You’d think by the time your child enters their thirties, the letting go wouldn’t be an issue, but the simple fact is that no matter how old they grow, your child is still your child and when they leave you, no matter how exciting the circumstances may be, a piece of your heart goes with them.
One of my most vivid memories as a child was seeing my Grandma Farner break into tears and put her hankie to her eyes as my Dad backed our family car out of her driveway to head home after a summer visit. I’d never seen her cry before, or any other adults for that matter, so it made an impression. I remember thinking that she must have loved my dad an awful lot to start crying just because we were going home. Now, fifty years later, I find myself in the same place.
Fortunately, it’s not a debilitating condition. I am not at home wailing or rending my garments. I am actually very happy for him. After almost thirty years either in school for working in education, he is embarking on a new adventure in the field of social research. It is an opportunity he is well suited for and I’m even excited that he’s going to be settling in Oregon. Even though it’s on the other side of the country, I’ve always wanted to go there. Now I have an excuse.
It never gets any easier, and it doesn’t matter if it’s them leaving us or us moving away from them…..
So true!