I take comfort in the fact that my parents survived the experience. Other parents seem to have managed, too ...
I think I owe my mother an apology. When my parents dropped me off for college, I blissfully unpacked my things, waved goodbye, and happily enjoyed my newfound freedom. To me, it was an adventure and I didn’t think anything of it. No homesickness. No nostalgia. I’m sure I didn’t call home enough. I was on my way into the future and having the time of my life.
Now that I’m a parent myself and just dropped off my daughter for her freshman year at college, I have a completely different perspective.
I almost didn’t survive drop-off day. I thought I was ready for it but I wasn’t. I’m inordinately proud of her and excited to see her take on a new experience, mature into adulthood, and fearlessly take on new challenges. I am so happy that she wanted to go to school and worked hard at her grades in order to be able to achieve her goal. I wasn’t prepared, though, for how much the experience of leaving her there, hours away from us, would feel like a devastating loss.
On the morning of the drop off, we packed the trunk of the car with her things, which was simple and easy. We navigated to the university, found her dorm, and lugged everything up to her room. We spent the next few hours helping her check in and get her room ready. After that, we made the typical trip most parents make with their freshmen children -- to Walmart for last-minute items. We hit the coffee shop and then ... we left her there. We drove away, steeped in melancholia. She never thought twice about it. For her it was an adventure.
Mourning ... and the path of joy
We have six children, but missing even one leaves a huge hole in the household. Selfishly, I want all the kids to stay at home forever because I like having them around. It’s a vexing conundrum. What I want is the opposite of what’s good for them. They have to leave. It isn’t healthy for them to stay in their childhood bedrooms forever. This college drop-off was inevitable.
I take comfort in the fact that my parents survived the experience. Other parents seem to have managed, too. Year after year, kids are dropped off at college and their parents adjust. It’s a strange sort of adjustment because it feels like grief. As time moves on, it exacts a toll. Everything changes. My daughter cannot be a young girl playing with dolls in her room forever. She must grow up and make a life of her own. This process causes grieving but, for a parent, the grief is very much colored by joy. I want my children to move out. I want them to thrive.
There is great wisdom in the teaching of Our Lord when he insists that those who mourn are already on the path to joy.
I could have easily avoided this grief by never having children, but would that really have brought more joy to my life? Sure, it’s easier to not make connections, to avoid parenthood entirely. Raising children isn’t easy. Watching them become independent and successful isn’t any easier. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Side-by-side
I am slowly learning to allow grief and joy to exist side-by-side. This week, as the feast of Our Lady of Sorrows approaches, we have a powerful reminder of the pain that parenthood can cause, how our hearts become vulnerable, and how even the suffering of parents is folded up into a greater good. Obviously, a college drop off and the Cross are very, very different but it seems to me that the principle is the same. Knowing that her child was going to leave her all too soon in order to fulfill his destiny, did Mary hesitate over becoming a mother? I think not. Experiencing how my children must grow up and leave home, do I want to change a thing? Absolutely not. I am thrilled with the time I got to spend with them in our home and, now that they’re beginning to leave, I’m excited about the good that they can add to the world.
Our relationship isn’t over. It’s changing, yes, but I don’t ascribe to the doom-and-gloom view that once the kids go to college that it’s the end. In a way, the relationship actually gets better. Yes, I see the older kids less and they depend on me less, but we still talk all the time and, when we do, our conversations increasingly have more depth and joy. I’m still their father but I’m no longer yelling at them about cleaning their room and making them eat broccoli. They’re no longer feeling like I’m unfair and overbearing. The relationship has matured and I’m pleased to say that it turns out we all really like each other and enjoy hanging out.
Maybe our grown children don’t need their parents in the same way as when they were little, but they do still need us. And the biggest surprise to me was the realization that I need them. It’s funny how life works, but I’m just fine with it. In fact, I’m downright grateful.
