Oct
2
Last week we dropped Riley off for college, which both was and was not as bad as I’d thought it might be. It was bolstering to see all the other parents there to help, dragging giant carts through hallways and heaving big clunky duffel bags and sweating their way up the stairs. Everyone had the same complicated expression, everyone was there to do what they could to ease the transition and then say goodbye, goodbye, goodbye. It was good to see how organized the university staff was, with legitimately helpful students posted everywhere to provide directions and instructions and be on the proactive lookout for confusion. It was weirdly nice to see Riley’s name on a little bag hung on his door and inside the little bag was, in addition to Useful Paperwork, a toothbrush and toothpaste.
It was also very hard to do the last embrace and feel how we were both lingering, not wanting to let go. It was hard to smile and say I love you and you’re going to do great! instead of Wow this is terrible and I can’t believe it’s happening! It was hard to actually leave the building without him and get in the truck without him and then leave the city without him and then drive two hours south and go into our house where he is visibly not there, where his not-thereness is a thing that is less of an absence and more of a presence, a dotted-line ghost that I cannot touch or be comfortingly annoyed by or hug goodnight.
It has been a real MIXED BAG. It reminds me of early parenthood in so many ways, where both things can be true at the same time. I love this newborn beyond all reason AND I have, ha ha, completely napalmed my life! I am swimming in a sea of awe and wonder AND drowning in a pool of bone-melting anxiety! I am constantly thrilled beyond measure AND I am so incredibly bored I could barf!
Except now it is: I am so proud and he is exactly where he should be AND it feels like some critical part of me has been painfully dug out with a garden trowel. I wish he could have lived with us forever AND I am so glad to no longer be picking up his messes all day long. I feel the ache of not being able to see his face AND I feel a new peacefulness in the household. I’m so happy that he is off living his own life AND I can’t believe he’s gone, I can’t believe he’s gone.
So many of us fledgling parents are grappling with the impossibility of time and it just doesn’t emotionally compute, the truth of tiny babies turning into giant young adults. It’s why we say things like “It all went by so fast!” even though in the moment, in the years themselves, it did not. We want to bring the past back to us (selectively, of course) but we can’t and there is a part of this that feels unfair, like wait wait wait, what do you MEAN all those younger versions are only memories now and I will never get to experience them again like that EVER? What do you mean I bent my entire life around parenthood like a climbing vine and now they are LEAVING?
Well. There are other, better perspectives, of course, like the anticipation of all the future versions of them, too, and the truth that parenthood does not end, it goes on and on in all its different iterations and there are so many good moments that are yet to come — including, hopefully, a new and rewarding chapter of my own life. And tell me this, when did parenthood ever feel painless? It has been my greatest and most meaningful life’s gift, it has always been a doubt-filled and bittersweet mixed bag.
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All the tears.
You captured this so beautifully. Thank you. I sent my oldest off to college a year ago, and the tension between “This is exactly what I want for you (growing up/moving on/moving out)” and “Please come back I miss you” can sometimes take your breath away.
Yes. All of this. Perfection.
Gorgeously captured. Motherhood is an absolute crucible.
This so perfectly articulated the experience we just went through sending our eldest off to university this year. So many parallels to other former seasons of parenting, but now with this kind of gaping indentation in my chest where she used to be in my heart. Gah. It’s so wonderful and so terrible and I am so thankful and so devastated at the same time. Thank you for again giving voice to the feelings we are all holding.
Once again, you express this parenting stage, this jumble of feelings so well. I dropped my oldest off 5 weeks ago (but who’s counting?) and I swear it was like a birth process- none of us were ready but it was TIME. It was painful and beautiful and I kinda never want to do it again.
Beautifully put.
I remember sending Rob on the bus to first grade and thinking “HOW CAN IT BE CORRECT TO HAVE MY BABY AWAY FROM ME DOING THINGS I DON’T KNOW ABOUT, FOR SUCH A LARGE NUMBER OF HOURS???” And then college is like a hundred times that level of not-knowing.
Love this
I love this. I have (less than) one more year before she fledges – but also her anxiety means she doesn’t really want to go….or at least not go far. and I am torn between wanting her to fly and experience it all and to selfishly enjoy dry hand towels again – to please stay, where it is safe and I can at least feel like I am helping, even if the hand towels are ALWAYS too damp no matter how often I change them.
Bawling over here. Please publish a book of parenting essays!
Oh my. So beautiful. I hope Riley has a great year.
So beautifully written, as usual….Im over here with my heart breaking – and I still have mine here for one more year 💕
Once again, your writing brought me to tears. Blessings to Riley and to you, John, and Dylan, including comfort and peace as you all navigate this new chapter.
My oldest graduated from college this past summer and my youngest is a junior. It was a real reorientation when the last kid left home. I am no longer making space for these people every day. Even though I am cheering on their independence, I miss their company/demands/noise.
However, I did just go visit my oldest in her big city. We went out for happy hour wine and oysters and that felt like a parenting victory lap.
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You captured this perfectly. I’ve been a follower since day one as my son is the same age as Riley. As I dropped mine off, all I could see was his smiling face in the hiking backpack. A time I will never know again. It is soul crushing