Twenty three days.
Twenty three short days.
That’s the amount of time left until Son reports to university and begins his college career.
He won’t be living at home and commuting to school. Nor will he be moving out into his own place to attend college nearby. He’s not even moving across the country.
In this instance, he’s crossing an ocean to go to school in a different time zone, one that is six hours behind us. He’s chosen to attend college back in the US.
I want to make clear that I am excited for him, because I truly am. Oh to be that young again, with so many choices and decisions and ideas and plans!
We know the school well, have visited before. He chose it because he said it ‘felt right’, and I could see that for myself.
He knows what subjects intrigue him, where his interests lie, what his strengths are. He’s tentatively selected a major, International Affairs, but beyond that he wants to open his mind and be receptive to new subjects, theories, ideas, discoveries, experiences.
It is a rite of passage. This is what we raise our children to do: grow up, develop, mature, become young adults who go into the world in search of their own path. Their own journey. Their own life.
It isn’t as if he hasn’t traveled before, or been away for some period of time. He’s a hardy traveler who’s been to many countries, including halfway around the world to Thailand for a school volunteer service project. One summer he was gone for three weeks attending an outdoor teambuilding and leadership program. Last summer he was gone for a month, working as a Junior Counselor at that same summer youth camp.
He isn’t a naive babe in the woods; he’s generally sensible, careful and knows how to get around. He knows right from wrong. We’ve talked candidly about the challenges and dangers lurking in this world. That not everything is as it seems.
I also know that this is not the end of his being with us, living with us, sharing our daily lives. Plane reservations are already made to bring him home for the holidays at the end of the semester; interim holidays he’ll spend visiting family in the US.
Nor am I worried so much about him being physically so far away. We can jump on a plane and be there in less than a day if need be. My brother could be there in less than 6 hours’ drive. His best friend’s parents are only 45 minutes away; they are the type of people you could call, would call, in the middle of the night if the situation warranted that.
In this wondrous age of modern technology, I know that I’ll be able to stay in touch with email, or I can catch him on Facebook.
I can Skype with him face-to-face when I really need to see his smile, hear his voice, look into his eyes, read his emotions.
It won’t be exactly when and how I want to communicate with him, and I may have to wait longer to get ‘my fix’ of him. But still, the opportunities to stay connected are there.
I expect that he will return at the end of the school year to spend next summer with us, and so he will be living with us under the same roof again.
We’ll be able to share most meals together, pass each other on the stairs. We’ll hear how his day went, ask him to walk the dog or take out the garbage or run some errand. We can discuss current events, watch a television show together.
We’ll have a sense of his comings and goings, who his new friends are, who he is becoming.
But I know that as he progresses on his journey, at some point it will cease to be him living with us and become him visiting us.
And that is what is tearing me up inside.
Twenty three days…
Image credit: Wishedauan portfolio 2703, freedigitalphotos.net
Reaching for the kleenex . . .
No one warned us when we brought our children into the world that letting them spread their wings and fly would be so tough on us.
Maybe because we never expected our children to be global citizens and assumed they would leave home the same way we did – at least a college in the same country, not a continent away. Oh how the world has changed.
I miss breathing the same air, being able to speak at the same time of day, hate physically being so far away.
Be kind to yourself, you will adjust but in your own time and own way.
Thanks, in oh so many ways. I keep trying to focus on how exciting it is for him, because it is. I’m going to afford him the respect and freedom my parents gave me, but boy at times it sure hurts. Deep breaths, in and out.
When my son Ben left the nest for university, he was just 100 miles away. Easy enough to drive there and back in a day, as often as we liked.
But in truth, we didn’t see so much of him. You don’t let them flex and fly and then sit on them again. And it is such a wondrous time of development and independence for them that it would be utterly wrong to impose.
When Ben graduated, he took a job in the UK although we were by that time living in Spain. If it’s any consolation to you, we too rely entirely on Skype to keep in contact, and we speak at least once a week on a Sunday for an hour or so. It is quality time, the weekly catch-up – dedicated just to each other.
We get together twice a year – once here and once there. His work schedule there and my commitments here allow us no more. But we make the very most of it.
I have friends with offspring just around the corner from them who communicate with each other less!
I don’t feel that I miss out.
But ask me again when I become a grandparent …
Thanks Deb. I promise I’ll give him his freedom but boy it hurts. We Skype every Sunday evening (afternoon for them) with my parents and you’re right, it is a good way to focus on each other and talk. Something about looking in each other’s faces…
I’m not a parent and as such can’t imagine what this must be like for you.
When I think about the same time in my life, moving out, and then moving overseas almost 8 years ago, I just remember wanting mum to know that it was the amazing job she did that allowed me to be brave enough (and strong enough as it turns out) to follow my instinct into the unknown.
I suspect that this doesn’t make it hurt any less for you but I am sure in years to come Son will say the same about you.
Breathe and be kind to yourself x
You know what Kym? This really helps. I do think he knows how much we love him and know he’ll do well. Just wish I wouldn’t miss him so much, and he hasn’t even gone. What you said about your mum is so sweet — you make sure you tell her. I can only hope Son will talk of us as you have of your mum. It really did help a lot, thank you.
I do hope you have given him Tina Quick’s book: A Global Nomad’s Guide to University Transition! A good present to give to someone going off to university. Besides all the modern technology do send him a hand written letter every now and then, they are extra special in this day an age. Years ago when I left home in Zimbabwe to study in Leiden, the Netherlands, it was really tough, I really missed my family but somehow we all survived. Enjoy these 23 days together!
Thank you so much for your sincerely heartfelt note. You’re right, it is so much easier now to stay in touch and that means the world. I will definitely be sending some cards/letters; as you said, they are extra special. Going to enjoy every minute – he is special and deserves nothing less. Thank you again. So sweet.
And yes, I had him read Tina’s book, as well as the Pollock & Van Reken Raising Third Cultural Kids. He is only 2 years out of the US so dealing with his issues a little different than what you were dealing with. We have been having conversations about what he might face and how. So glad these books exist, and why I am writing my book on Emotional Resilience, too. They really cracked the code on understanding intercultural issues.
Hello LAJ,
Your anguished emotion and practical reality seem to be in equal measure. Although the next few months may be challenging I’m confident you’ll be able to both support your son in his transition as well as grieve your loss.
Why thank you Tammy, I appreciate it. Most of the time I’m holding it together just fine – I sure don’t want to be an emotional mess around him! It’s just that every now and then it pops up and bites me. I guess that’s the way our minds work in dealing with difficult change, a little bit at a time. As you said, I will be (quietly) focusing on his transition and the exciting new things that he’ll be doing and discovering.
Hello! I found your blog several months ago while searching for information on the Netherlands and then just kept on reading 🙂 Also, my daughter has been in contact with you in regards to a short term move she is making to your city from the U.S.–hopefully you two can meet sometime. When I read your post today, I could completely empathize with your 23 day count down.
Knowing my children were in the process of becoming “visitors” was absolutely the most difficult thing about sending them off to college, so your last sentence really got to me. I, like you, was so excited for them and proud of the people they were becoming, but it was very bittersweet and it took me quite awhile to not feel sad about all the changes I knew were coming.
I know this is NOT helpful in anyway, but I just felt compelled to reach out.
Actually Stephanie, your comment was extremely helpful. It does help to know others feel this way, too. When I sat down to write the post (after days of circling around the issue), I had no idea about that last sentence. It just popped out. It surprised me, but immediately knew that I’d gotten to the core. Thank you so much for sharing this, because I know through you and others that I’ll work it out and come out on the other side. And yes, I am looking forward to meeting your daughter and son-in-law. I’m hoping they enjoy their time here and take away a good feeling for The Netherlands; it sure will be different from what they’re currently used to! Thanks for following and even more, for sharing. I really appreciate it.
When our daughter left the Netherlands for college I had a literal pain in my chest for many days/weeks. I will never forget that. It is hard.
Kym’s comment is so true – and that moment will come, many times over – when your children let you know how your love for them is the source of their life.
And Deb’s comment is also right on: the times together are that much more rich because of the separation. That will only grow.
(why am I commenting here – everything’s already been said so well……;-)
I guess just to let you know we know how you feel and stand with you.
Oh Norm this is so sweet, I’m glad you did. Everyone’s comments have been so insightful, they’ve helped more than you all know. I’m fortunate to have folks willing to share whether near, far or in between. In the meantime, I’m trying to savor every moment. Thanks.
HI there! Just wanted so say Hope it all goes well, and I son agree with Drie Culturen about the letters and little parcels of random things too. My mother used to send me parcels not only of the things I missed but also newspaper cutouts about things happening at home and if they went somewhere, then some info and souvenir. She and I felt that we were still sharing our lives
I think that Drie Culturen’s and your ideas are wonderful. Back in the day when email didn’t exist (somewhere between the Stone and Iron Ages), receiving a letter was the cause of much excitement. So I’ll be sending the occasional card, letter or package to continue sharing with him 🙂
While I’m still 17 years away from this point, I know somewhere deep in my bones it is coming and my baby will one day leave home, just like your baby is about to. *Sob*
You know that I’m fairly new at this whole parenting gig, right, but I think I’m catching on to a secret that no one ever tells new mothers: no matter what, your babies will break your heart. They grow up, become fine young men and women and leave you and so, broken heart.
Watching my girl grow and develop and become more and more independent is, like, sort of the point, right? But each new step moves her further away from my apron strings and OMG, MAH BAYBEE WONT NEED ME ANYMORE. GAH.
So, anyway. A beautiful post. Enjoy these last 23 days. *tears*
You made me laugh, thank you! You’re absolutely right. We spend so much of our lives trying to teach, encourage and protect with the goal of helping them become a wonderful adult who will leave. You’d think there was enough time to be prepared for this, but it never seems to be enough.
You gave him wings now it’s his turn to fly. And by the sounds of it his plummage is magnificent supported by stout muscles. Sure you’ll cry but blended with the sadness will be tears of pride. It’s a mother thing.
Oh yes, it’s definitely a mother thing. Don’t worry, I won’t drown in my tears. Thank you
I remember when I left The Netherlands to go a UK university 12 years ago (back in the day when mobiles were still bricks and Skype wasn’t around) and I absolutely loved it when my parents sent me letters, a ‘chocolade letter’ for Sinterklaas and other small gifts. Communication was through a shared corridor pay phone so not ideal, but getting things through the post made a huge difference.
I also remember feeling jealous when my British friends could go home for a weekend whenever they wanted to; not as easy for me, however, I did often go with my friends to their parents’ and that was great. It was so nice to get out of the Halls of Residence and go somewhere homely!
All in all though I have never regretted going abroad to university and it has made me appreciate my family more – plus it helped me to develop into an independent woman, which, had I stayed nearer home, I am not sure I would have achieved!
Agree with Jane and the others, be kind and gentle to yourself. Thinking of you.
Thank you Carrie for your wise words. You’re absolutely right, independence IS what we want for our children. Love the thought of sending him a chocolade letter – he’d appreciate that and the sentiment behind it. Looking forward to seeing you soon.