Saturday morning silence. Husband’s left for work, college-break daughter sleeping late, high-school son at team sleepover, dog at my feet, coffee in my hand, blanket across my lap. Wow…Saturday!
My five senses are happy this morning. I can taste my coffee differently than on weekdays. I can be present and feel grounded, it’s a satisfying feeling. Slowing life down enough to feel and experience…I live for these moments of satisfaction.
Our family was all home for the holiday. Our oldest son has come and gone. At age 22, he is on his quest to live his own life. If you’ve followed any of my other posts you will know that I am learning how to make this transition. Today I am at peace. There is a story for how I got to this peaceful place this morning…
After Christmas our oldest told us that he was going to head back to school 2 weeks earlier than anticipated. His girlfriend was coming to visit us and he would plan to head out when she went back. I had a difficult time with the news. I had prepared myself for this potentially being our last holiday break together, as Del graduates from college this May and it will just never be the same, but cutting that time in half threw me for a loop. In fear of seeming selfish for the sadness I showed when he told us he was leaving I wanted to share my recent struggle with my children. I wanted to be transparent in my feelings so they were not perceived wrong. I read one of my earlier posts about what I believe to be transitional depression to them. I felt it would help explain a mother’s pain in letting go and that I wouldn’t ever be asking him to be doing anything different, that it was just the feelings that were emerging from me and the struggle between my heart and my intellect again. I hoped reading this would help them understand. I read it with great difficulty, I had no idea I would be so emotional as I read it out loud. They heard me and I felt it helped. I took their hands and told them that we all have a journey and that this is just part of mine. I am learning to let go.
A week after this talk we kissed Del goodbye and bid him farewell for a while. We went about our family Sunday, at bedtime I pulled back my bed covers to find an envelope with “Mom” written on it. I knew it was Del’s handwriting and I instantly welled with tears. My husband lay next to me while I read it out loud. The words that flowed from my child were so eloquent, so beautiful. His words and feelings put so much into perspective for me, his words were so powerful and healing. Part of me wants to share that letter with you here, but selfishly I also want it just for me. Maybe one day it will make sense to share it, but not today. His words are my strength.
In one of my former posts entitled “From Little Acorns Mighty Oaks Grow” I stated that as my children have grown they now help to give me cover and shade when I need it. This letter is proof of that. The maturity he showed and the insight he shared has strengthened me. Since I read my post about transitioning to my children, I have found an even greater understanding between us. We have always had great understanding, but with each new beginning I find communicating what it feels like to each of us is important. If we don’t share our feelings with each other then assumptions are made. I would have never wanted the assumption for my oldest son to be that my sadness was a reflection of us being disappointed in his decision. I needed him to know and understand that my sadness is something that I am working on within me. That we support his decisions wholeheartedly but that there is an emotional process of letting him go that we continue to go through.
I am at peace today because I believe we understand each other.