SAYING GOODBYE

It’s quiet in my house right now. 

One boy in Philadelphia, the other in California - pieces of my heart spread across the breadth of a continent.

This time it’s only for a couple nights, but with one headed off to college in the fall and the other trailing only two years behind, I know their absence will fast become a constant reality.

I haven’t cried yet, but I can feel it coming.

I know other moms have gone before me, sending their babies off into the world, releasing them to adventure and travel and live all beyond the reach of their loving hands. But I have never said goodbye like this.

And I am unsure if I know how.

How does one separate from the impulse of motherly love, or at least hope to contain it? How does one set aside decades of drive to nurture, care and guide, to simply hug and wish them well as they walk away? 

When they go they will each take a piece of my heart with them. I’m wondering, will there be enough left of it to sustain me?

I want them to go. I am cheering for them to fly free. 

I want them to stay. I want them to choose that free is close to me.

Sometimes even the heart that beats within my own chest makes little sense. I have poured all I have into seeing them grow into men, envisioning the day when they would step fully onto the playing field of their life, my role of teammate and coach left behind. The day they exit my home is the day I have been working towards for decades, tirelessly and with all I have, working towards.

But again, sometimes the heart makes little sense.

When I look in their grown faces I see etches of the men they will become. I am so proud to see them go.

And when I look in their grown faces I see remnants of the boys they once were. I am so sad to see them go.

It’s hard to say goodbye to the boy. It’s hard to say goodbye to what I know of being a mom. It’s hard to step off of the field and onto the sidelines, cheering like a raving fan, but no longer controlling any parts of the game.

My heart will break and it will swell…all at the same time.

They told me this would be hard, but I couldn’t have possibly understood.

We’ve created and raised two beautiful human beings, sending them into the world was always the plan. But the transition feels more sudden than I had expected, the whiplash passing of time leaving me wondering if I can indeed catch my breath, or if I will ever fully breathe deep again.

In this next season, to love will be to let go, not in some final parting, but my heart feels it all the same. I will miss their faces, miss their hugs, miss the very feeling of their presence within a room. I will miss what I know of being a mom.

I will miss the pieces of my heart that go with them.

What a gift it is to raise a child, and what a sacrifice it is to see them go. Love on display in all its beautiful forms, both in the holding and the cherishing, and in the stepping aside so they can rise.

I have not cried yet but it’s coming - my only hope being that every tear I shed celebrates both the boy they were in my home and the man they will be in theirs. 

I love you, my sons.