Letting go

How many of you out there have packed up your children and sent them off to college, or the military, or another state or country where they are starting a new life? My guess  is a lot, given the Facebook posts and Tweets I’ve been following for the past few months. Some have truly let go, dropping their kids off and waiting longingly for Thanksgiving. You’re currently in the middle of the longest stretch you’ve ever faced without seeing your kid, and it’s killing you. Some have let go, but only until next weekend. Your children are texting you, you’re still solving problems, and you’ve managed to feel homesick, even though you’re the one still at home.We all process our children’s growth and independence differently, and that’s as it should be. There’s no  one right way to help your kids leave the nest.

There’s a duck family in the lake behind my house. When the ducklings first hatched, the mama was relentless in her defense and protection of the little ones. She visibly stiffened as we neared, her eyes large and forbidding. Soon, her brood was swimming, and as we approached, she placed her body squarely between us and her ducklings but encouraged them to keep swimming. Now, she swims ahead of them, and at our appearance, she pauses, but only slightly. She can sense that her ducklings are bigger now, more equipped, more ready to defend themselves.

In the last few months, I’ve had to step away from my Mother Duck role completely, although I’ve been swimming ahead for a while now. My daughter, after traveling through Europe for a few months last year, decided to take an even deeper plunge into the unknown. In June, she left with a backpack and malaria pills to travel around the world. As I hugged her goodbye at the airport, I knew I wouldn’t see her for a year. Not a week, not until the next holiday, but a full year. That does something to a mother’s heart.

I don’t think I knew what conflicting emotions truly were until I saw my daughter beaming on the coast of Crete while I worried myself sick about the bombings and shootings in Europe. On the one hand, I was trepidatious, watching the news, following the violence, checking in with her via text every day. On the other hand, I felt indescribable joy for her as she discovered the beauty of Budapest and the hidden streets of Croatia.

Her experiences only became even more awe-inspiring when she arrived in Japan, which she described as a completely different world, in every way possible. She fell in love with the people, the culture, the rice balls, the Critter Cafes. She spent a month in Japan alone, savoring the atmosphere but realizing if she didn’t leave now, she never would. On she went to the Philippines where she became a certified diver and spent her days swimming with whale sharks and diving WW2 shipwrecks. Yesterday, she arrived in Cambodia for a month-long yoga retreat. She sent a video of a tribal priest blessing her and chanting a welcome while she smiled peacefully among this strange language and culture.

How can I deny her this? Why would I want to?

Parents, I know it’s hard to let your child go, but if you’re finding yourself questioning your decision to do so, ask yourself those same questions. Your children may not be traveling around the world, literally, but they’re exposing themselves to the world and enjoying their own form of self-discovery. How can you deny them that? And why would you want to?