As I woke up Saturday morning, my husband turned to me, singing the song we video-recorded our daughter performing thirteen years ago at her pre-school graduation. Several hours later, we watched 89 students in blue or white caps and gowns step their way down the aisle of a local music tent to the measured tones of Pomp and Circumstance. Our daughter was number 73.
A million years ago, I dropped our girl off at daycare the first time and sobbed all the way to work. When she started kindergarten, I cried, knowing that five years of her life had past, and now she would take critical, independent steps without us. Each year, after Labor Day, when the start of school rolled around, tears etched channels down my cheeks as I watched her climb onto the bus, or walk into a brick building, knowing that more of her had already separated. Last fall, I stood by the window as she backed the car down the driveway on her first day of her final year of high school, swallowing hard and wondering what it would be like when the year was over. Now, I swing in a cradle, inspecting my first days in the infancy of knowing.
Is there anything new that can be said about a child growing up? Is there a way to describe the pride, nostalgia, regret and joy that circle and weave, in precise terms that communicate these competing sentiments to those who have not lived it? I think not.
But in spite of all the conflicting waves of emotion, I am clear about one thing. Forward is the only way. So I keep going. Typing blog passages, waving her off as she departs to work, smiling when she returns, and reserving a hotel room for college orientation at the end of this week.
Our job, all these years, has been to help her grow successfully while imbuing her with traits of strength, respect, caring and diligence. Check, check, check and check.
Now it's time for us all to move on.
16 comments:
Poignant. Ah, the ultimate love where separation is the goal, the reward, and the heartache. I can still see my 40 something daughters climbing into that big yellow bus.
Ah, there's the rub- our reward for raising independent daughters turns out to seem like more of a lonely punishment.
This makes me want to grab my girls and hold them a little tighter today.
Just know you've done the best you can for her, mom.
I can't even begin to imagine my kids graduation. It's giving me palpitations just thinking about it!
I've still got one at home...22. I must say, I'm kinda ready. Took this long, but I think I'm ready for him to fly. I never thought the day would come. I may sing a different tune once his room is empty :(
This one had to be read in "parts", Ms. Liza. She will always be there ,,for you,,,now.
Aww...you're making me get misty. Life is a journey and there so much more for you and her to go through together. {[hugs}}
That was lovely. Time just rolls on. You have given her the best of you. She couldn't have gotten more.
It's hard to let go, sometimes, but it sounds like you're a great mom.
I like your nostalgic yet positive take on this. It is the way, isn't it? Moving forward is the only reasonable option.
As one whose mother didn't know how to allow me to move forward, I can say that it is meant for our parents to experience the cruelty of these hard feelings and grow as well. Otherwise we are all stunted.
Good on you. I know it can't be easy.
You won't move on totally Liza. My daughter is grown and working on her own and living across the country. But next month my sister and I and out two girls are getting together for our first ever Mother/Daughter get-together. I'm quite excited!
Moving forward is the only thing to do. That's what our children, and grandchildren, do. Very poignant piece of writing that I can relate to, Liza. As Helen says (above), or implies, they all still in our lives, but in a different way. I'm glad I'm now close enough to my grown and married children so that Jen and I can see them sometimes once a month at least.
Just enjoy these moments with your daughter. There will be more to come.
Ann Best, Memoir Author
It all goes far too fast and it keeps seeming to go faster. Things move on and we should be happy for that--with just a tinge of bittersweet in the memories. You said it well.
Lee
Tossing It Out
I'm going to hug my kids tight before going to bed tonight. College is big step and can be a bitter sweet experience. Hopefully much more sweet as you have raised her right and she is making right decisions for her life and her future.
Forward is definitely the only way. Beautiful post.
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