The last couple of days I'd been working on a post about my "feelings" about this upcoming week/weeks/months and the changes that I am facing. It was a sad little post, that frankly, no one, besides me, would have cared much about. With the exception of being somewhat cathartic, I'm glad I didn't publish it.
Today, I woke up and the first thing I thought was--It is Sunday! My daughter came downstairs for breakfast and we greeted each other in our ordinary, dreary way,
"Good morning"
"morning"
"sleep well?"
"yeah"
"You hear the storm last night?"
"no"
"there was a tornado"
"oh"
I let her get to the business of eating her cereal. After some sugar had permeated her system I knew I could get her attention so I offered up my morning thoughts.
"One week from right now, you will wake up in your dorm room and either think 'wow, my mom nailed this comfortable bed thing' or 'wow, my back hurts'. But either way, one week from right now, you get to wake up in your own new room"
She raised up her head from the cereal bowl in front of her and while she was still thinking through her morning fog, she replied with a whopping, "yep. that's right"
And then I said it...
"Yeah. One week from right now, you can wake up and do whatever the heck you want for the entire day"
That caught her attention enough for her to choke back the massive scream of joy I could tell she was holding back, and a small, but powerful grin came over her face.
For one of the first times in the last several weeks, I grinned too. And that grin turned into a very large smile. A smile of remembrance. A smile of excitement. A smile of thankfulness. And, I told her before I left the kitchen, "you're gonna love it!"
I went back and shared our morning exchange with my husband and found myself unable to stop smiling. I told him how I vividly remember my very first day waking up in my dorm room and how totally thrilled and excited I was. He couldn't believe I could remember it, but I do. I remember how I felt and I remember some of the things I thought. I remember being momentarily apprehensive about what I was supposed to actually do, but the feeling of independence, of "freedom" and curiosity quickly overtook any apprehension still looming within me and I carried on. For me, the days and weeks ahead proved to be filled with activities and opportunities in which I was eager to participate. I was in control of my destiny and was free to make my own choices. And that I did.
Unfortunately I made terrible choices and went down equally terrible paths that made my immediate "destiny" rather grim, to say the least. I was irresponsible and far too immature to turn my newfound "freedom" and "independence" into something that would eventually
benefit me. Basically I was a mess. Eventually I left school and it took several more years for me to finally get my life on a more positive track. That track came for me only when I began to lead my life with the help and acceptance of something much grander than myself.
So now I watch my youngest daughter with all the same anxiousness and excitement. I watch her hold back her ecstatic smile and energetic readiness in hopes that I won't see how much she longs for this same independence. But I am comforted by her excitement.
The night before this conversation, we want to mass. The homily was about the feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord and our deacon ended his homily saying "ain't God's love grand!", connecting a reference he'd made earlier in his talk. It was at that moment I realized I was spending my last weekly mass with this young girl of mine. Toward the end of the mass our priest gave blessings to all people with August birthdays of which I was one. Afterward, as we were leaving mass, I mentioned to our priest that this was our daughters last mass in town before leaving for college and he immediately stopped and gave her a very thoughtful blessing. While I had just received a blessing for yet another birthday and a prayer for continued wisdom after all these (many) years, my daughter was receiving a blessing asking for God to watch over her, protect her and guide her in her upcoming journey in attaining wisdom for her many years ahead. How special it was for me in that moment to feel God's grace day in and day out, year after year and to see that the circle of life is only due to His endless love for us.
When my daughter wakes up on this day next week, I hope that she wakes up with that same excitement, curiosity and independence that I felt all those many years ago. And, if she does think to herself "I can do whatever the heck I want", I pray that she remembers Gods grace, relies on His guidance and follows His commands as she makes her own choices and decisions during this exciting and independent time. I want her to remember "ain't God's love grand"! And, more than just remember, I want her to know His love and believe in His love. I am certain she will and I am eternally thankful for that as I watch her leave our home in very good hands.
Currently, we are in the annual season of announcements, endings and new beginnings, well wishes and pining over memories. While I have what I believe to be a good deal of personal experience in this annual tradition, I am struggling with this years festivities. This season of this particular year is one I have been secretly dreading. While I know that is all ok and very much the order of things , I'm still not quite ready.
I think I've written about having given birth to and raising four kids, staying married to one guy for several decades and being a stay-at-home mom for over 30 years now. (If I haven't written about it, then I need to get busy) My pregnancies and births were really no more spectacular than anyone else's stories. My older three kids have all grown into decent, good, upstanding adults, family members, workers and citizens. My youngest kid seems to be on that same path. My husband is still my husband and we still love each other. And, as of now, I am still a stay-at-home mom and have worn that title with pride for quite some time.
Given those premises, I'd like to think I know a thing or two. I know that having babies usually gets easier. I know that babies and kids all go through stages. I know that raising kids is really hard. I know that all marriages go through ups and downs--some go through more downs than others. I know that families are complicated. I know that moms and dads usually do things differently. I know that as you age you gain more wisdom and I also know that hindsight really is 20/20.
Hindsight tells me that most of the time everything is going to work out ok. Hindsight tells me that, for the most part, I've done my job properly. Hindsight tells me that I will always have new and different experiences to enjoy as I make my way through life. Hindsight tells me that some friends will stay, some will go, but my family will always be here. Hindsight tells me that even with family, I'm still required to reach out, give and be available in order to keep those family ties strong. Hindsight tells me that the love I had for my newborn babies grows into just as strong a love for them as adults. And hindsight tells me that no matter how much I know from hindsight I don't get to escape all the realities of the here and now.
Right now the here and now is graduation week for our youngest child, the daughter who has been our bonus child, the one who taught me that having ten kids would have been a blast. (you have to tip the scale over to four kids before you really "get" that!) I've seen a ton of social media tributes that parents are doing for their seniors. I keep thinking I need to do the same. But I just can't. Don't get me wrong...I'm super super proud of this girl! She is amazing and truly spectacular. But I've got to be honest in saying that while hindsight tells me I have a ton of cool stuff to look forward to with her in the next few years, right now I'm just not happy. Right now I'm sad. I can and will put on the happy face. I can smile and talk about her plans, our plans and admit to excitement over all that. But the fact is that right now, for my immediate future, I know what hindsight has taught me. Hindsight has taught me that I am going to really miss this girl.
I'm going to miss her like crazy....c. r. a. z. y.
Everyone's known that. Everyone's mentioned or talked about it. I've tried to talk about it but I mostly cut those conversations short due to the lump that forms in my throat. I'm pretty sure my older kids fear that one day they may find me curled up in a ball rocking back and forth sobbing. That won't happen. Hindsight tells me I'll be ok, everything will be ok. But hindsight still doesn't take away the heart and the soul and the feelings we have for the people we love.
Instead of curling up in a ball, what may happen (or may have already happened) is finding myself softly crying in the shower as I think about her not being here. Or, me tearing up at the memories of the sheer joy of our little family when we brought this sweet girl home from the hospital or the memory of all her "performances" for us, or her unabashed pride in wearing her headgear at night when her siblings friends were over, or her last-ditch efforts to swim hard enough to make state or bring a grade up from a B to an A. I may feel sad when 5:00 PM comes around and no one is here saying "I'm taking my shower now"...every. day. at. 5 PM! I may miss watching her contain her excitement at the next Harry Potter news or Guardians of the Galaxy movie. I will definitely miss hearing that laugh--that outstanding, cheerful, full of life laugh--at an old episode of The Office or Friends, or a silly meme someone just posted, or something stupid either of her parents may have said or done, or enjoying being with her friends and listening to their funny stories. I will miss knowing the kindness she shows to her friends--I'll miss seeing her give a hug to a friend who's sad about a crummy swim time, or watching her encourage a friend who is facing a struggle or hearing about her cheering up a girlfriend who's boyfriend hasn't been so nice. I will miss that click-click sound she makes each morning calling her dog downstairs or that same sound at night when she calls her dog upstairs to go to bed with her. I will miss her willingness to be a part of my life even if it means Baskin Robbins instead of Braums, or mexican instead of chinese, a musical instead of a sci-fi movie.
One of the most interesting things I've heard this past year was while talking with someone who asked how I felt about my daughters upcoming graduation--she said very matter-of-factly "well, you two are pretty close". What? We are? How can we be that close...I'm just the mom? But when another one of my children agreed I had to choke back tears. Yes. Yes, we are...or at least I am. And, maybe in her own, last-kid-of-four-remaining-at-the-house way, she may feel the same as well.
So, while it may seem that I have depended on this kid for a great deal of companionship over the last several years and that I am now faced with redefining my Stay-At-Home mom title to mean something geared more toward my own future, I also couldn't be more excited to see what this incredibly special young woman does over the next several years ahead. I can't wait to meet the people she befriends. I can't wait for her to bring new friends home to hang out for the weekend or go to a concert or come for Thanksgiving dinner. I can't wait to watch what interests she develops, what things get her excited. I can't wait to hear her tell stories of her adventures and experiences. I can't wait for that first time she calls excited about an accomplishment. And yes, I already can't wait for her weekend visits back home that I already know will pass all too quickly. Hindsight tells me that I will sit on the porch swing and wave good bye to her, wait for her to leave and spend a few minutes wiping my own tears away.
But hindsight tells me, if I'm lucky, she'll be back.
Anne, I love you infinity times a million 💞
Photo Credit: Buona Sarah Photography
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