"All the world feels caught in these goodbyes, goodbyes that bruise and hurt but remind us that our hearts are still soft and alive. For a dead heart doesn't hurt with a goodbye, only a heart alive to others feels the pain of that goodbye, the difficulty of leaving...." From the Goodbye section of Between Worlds page 202
On Sunday we said goodbye to our youngest son at the entrance to Hellenic College, a college that has shaped him through academia,service, friendship, and most importantly - faith.
We said goodbye in early evening, when the sun still had a long while before it set, reflecting golden rays off of Jamaica Pond.
We said goodbye to the many years of college that come with five children. We said goodbye to the joy we had in watching a child grow to be a man. We said goodbye to those who came into our lives through him.
A short while after we said goodbye, he boarded a plane to Albania; from there his plans include travel and study for the next year. We raised our children on travel and the uncertainty that comes with frequent moves, so there is a deep satisfaction knowing that he is choosing to grow through travel.
Letting go of our children is a series of stages that begins early in their lives. We proudly, but fearfully, watch as they make their way onto buses or across playgrounds, their first venture into a world we can no longer control. Each stage and step gives them a bit more independence until we face the reality that we are ancillary to their adult lives. When we began the journey of parenthood, we created their world, we were their world. But through the years we gradually step aside and let them shine, apart from us.
And our son - he shines, and it is the work of God.
The gratefulness I feel is complicated by post-surgery exhaustion and the tears from saying goodbye. It comes in waves, and I try not to overthink, over analyze, instead allowing myself to just be, to feel what I'm feeling without defending or accusing.
A few years ago I wrote these words, and today I repeat them:
...the best thing I do as I pack him off and say goodbye is place him where I have placed him countless times before - in the arms of the Father. The Father who does not walk, but pulls up his robe and runs to greet his beloved children.
While the journey of parenthood continues until the day we die, there are pivotal turning points within that journey - and this is one of them. So I say goodbye with open arms, a glad heart, and tear-filled eyes. Somehow, all of those emotions belong to this moment.
We become parents with no guarantees. Whether biologically birthing or adopting, parenthood is a journey of faith. Today I get to celebrate. Tomorrow I may have to cry. But that's what this is: A long journey, a journey of faith. From A Long Journey, A Journey of Faith
