When your child goes to college several hours from home, you have a lot of time on the way there to think about how you’re going to handle the goodbye. Frankly, though, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.
It really hit me when I saw her room — neat, empty, sterile — the room of someone who has not quite completely moved out, but almost. There are still winter clothes left in the closet — meaning there is a promise to return when temperatures dip. But the returns will be visits only, finite moments of togetherness.
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It’s the little, insignificant things that make me sad — her mouthwash on the countertop in the bathroom, an errant pair of Nike shorts left in the laundry room, a lone earring abandoned on a dresser.
Why doesn’t anyone tell us this when we have children? That someday they will leave and our hearts will ache. I should have worked less — that is the thought that keeps going through my head. I missed things. I should have spent more time with her. Young mothers, if you are reading this, pay attention ...
The time for goodbye is finally here.
Stretching it out
We spent the 48 hours at the campus doing busy work that kept my mind off the goodbye.
We moved her stuff up several flights of stairs (her dorm is on a big hill), helped her unpack and organized her room. Frankly, it was nothing like my friends had told me about. She’s an extremely organized minimalist, so it took about 45 minutes total. Thankfully, there were still things to do, things left to buy. We dragged it out over two days — trips to Target, Costco, Pier 1.
“Are you sure you don’t need anything else? Do you have enough storage bins? Enough sweaters, toiletries?” I chanted over and over.
“Mom, I’ll be home to visit. If I need something, I will get it then.”
Becoming a friend
Teenagers are difficult, for sure, but something remarkable happens when they embark on adulthood: They become likable. My daughter is becoming a friend to me and to her sister, and her absence will be a major void in our family.
For me, the crying started on the way to drop her off. It continues even as I write this on the way home (clearly I am not driving). Maybe I should get an apartment near the university and get a job there? Not that I really considered this, but at the moment it seems like a reasonable compromise. Doesn’t it?
When the moment came to say goodbye, we all cried. I came back one more time for a final hug. It was just the two of us left in the room. I told her I was proud of her, that I loved her, would miss her and would always be there for her.
And my child, my strong firstborn child who has never been warm and fuzzy, she hugged me back. And that’s when I knew she would be OK, and it was really time to go.
The truth is, I will be OK too. Her book is unwritten. Today, she steps through the threshold into the world. Today, her book begins, and I can’t wait to read it.
Amanda is the mom of two, a reporter for WRAL and the author of several books including one on motherhood. Find her here on Mondays.