Friday, May 25, 2012

Don't let the Door Hit Ya

My child, my youngest is moving out tomorrow. I am happy for her, I am. I have watched her grow into a magnificent woman of character, strength and beauty. I am incredulous at the notion that it is our time to part. I knew one day when my baby was old enough she would take off and fly on her own. I also knew, her being my youngest child, my miracle baby, I would feel particularly torn about her departure. It’s funny how much I want my kids to grow up and be strong independent people, but as they have, I find myself missing the days when they were little and we were together every day. I confess, that as I was raising my kids alone back then, there were days I thought I would pass out I was so tired of being together all the time, but also looking back, I see how much I grew up with them. I learned so much from my kids, the very best of each other was passed as if by osmosis. Shear proximity in our tiny house caused each of us to bare the other’s finger prints having been pressed hard on our flesh and our hearts. I talk to my kids all the time, whether in short abbreviated spurts or long winded patio talks when we are relaxed, legs dangling over the side of the furniture as if we have forever. We are a close knit group of vagabonds, an Irish mafia, war buddies, each other’s keepers…we are family. When one child moves on, the group sways in unison, the vacancy felt and silently acknowledged. It isn’t as though we want everyone to stay in one place stagnated, or even suffocated by our familiarity, but rather, even in understanding the necessity of the evacuation, we still feel the loss, even if for only a moment. So it goes with what will soon be more than half of our family. More than half of the original five and absolutely fifty percent of the current six will be departing. Some of these departures are normal, expected and even celebrated as our brood morphs from dependents to independent adults. Some of the departures feel wrong, awkward, forced and I see the worried looks on the faces of my family. I see the family sway, as if taking a blow to the stomach or in this case, their heart. We still have each other, and thanks to modern technology, we will have the ability to see each other over the web. It’s not as good a having them here, but it helps. Little by little over the next year our family, my band of brothers and sisters will all be heading in different directions. I had once dreamed of a large family home with a front porch and an attic full of memories of our time together in a single home. I had thought we would settle in, while they were still so young, and stay in one spot; a spot the kids would come to for holidays, for dinners, for time with us. I am letting go of my dream, my nonexistent existence that I had longed for, but was unable to attain. We are headed for a much different life, a life that scares me sometimes in its unfamiliarity. I am becoming more accepting of the departure of my darlings, the loves of my life going to strike out on their own, and even my boyfriend, having to find his way back to me. Tomorrow is another “goodbye for now”. I will peel my fingers off my child one by one, and help load the last of her most precious belongings into her car. I will pack her up knowing she may be back years later, or this may be the last time we live together as a unit. I am happy for her, I am. I have been preparing for this day for the last twenty years. I have taught her everything I know and I can see now how she needs to learn more on her own. Michael and I are so proud of our youngest. I see in my darling boyfriend’s eyes how much love he has for our daughter, how much he wants her happy. Someone recently asked me how I was doing with all the changes going on in my household. I stood for what seemed like an eternity, staring blankly back at this person. The person looked back at me with what was an obviously “concerned for my mental health” look. Snapped out of my fog with the need to console the person, I responded, ‘Oh, I am fine. We are all just fine. Things are fine.” The truth is I am fine for the most part. This is what it is. Some things are extremely joyful and happy while others are complete heartbreak. It’s life, or at least it’s my life. I started looking into taking classes in order to not be alone; I was thinking of taking French or Spanish or dance. I will go to the movies, go to restaurants and eat at the bar; I will do what I used to do so many years ago on the few weekends when the kids were small, when they would go off to their dad’s house and I was alone. So much is coming to a close for us. I have decided to try and open some new doors.

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