Ten years ago this week we delivered David, our oldest, to college for his freshman year. And except for a period of about 18 months, we've returned to Taylor University's campus many times over these ten years. David, Dan and Katie spent their college years there.
I think I'll save my sentimental Taylor-ramblings for another post - namely the end of the coming school year, when Katie graduates. (You WILL graduate, Katie?) For now, I think back to that August day in 2001 when I was going to bravely deliver David to college. Oh, I wasn't one of those blubbery moms who sobbed all the way home. This is what we'd prepared for: encouraging our kids to take flight, go away to college, and learn independence. I was not a clingy, hanger-on mom. I had this all under control!
Until it was time to go. The sun had just slipped behind the football field at Taylor, and our family of six stood in the parking lot outside the chapel. David was due at a freshman event, so we really had to leave. And the tears came. Not just mine. Bill's. And all the siblings'. And David's too. It was the most unexpected, extreme display of emotion I'd ever experienced. We all sobbed and hugged, as if our hanging on could delay our separation.
I was so very proud of David and happy for this time in his life. But I very mother-ly realized that our family would never, ever again be the same. I'd have to stop and count out five plates instead of six for dinner. One less boy eating gobs of food. Less laughter from my very good-natured son. As his world broadened and became more, mine became less.
The change would eventually be good, I just didn't yet know what that good looked like. In the week or two after David left, I felt adrift. With a husband and three kids still at home! I missed him. Horribly, terribly. I have never admitted this to anyone, but I pulled his baby blanket from my bottom drawer and slept with it a few nights. All crazy "me" stuff .... not really "him" stuff!
By week two, as David would call us occasionally (I resisted calling him), my gloom lifted. He loved classes. He was making friends. The dorm brotherhood was awesome. Taylor was the place he was meant to be. And I knew he had begun growing into the young man God desired. And that we desired.
Letting my son go meant I would lose his boyhood, but I would witness his growing manhood. And that was a very good thing indeed.
4 comments:
I didn't cry when Nathan went to kindergarten. I was as excited as he was for school to start. This year, as he drives off to his last year of high school, I already see the separation that will come. I know he is ready -- we have actively prepared and my boy is unfolding into manhood before my very eyes.
But I don't want this year to fly by. I want it to last and last and last. And I've already warned him about the tears that will come!!! :)
Thanks for walking ahead of me -- I appreciate being less surprised by the "big moments!"
So well written Barb. Loved this sentence: "As his world broadened and became more, mine became less." YOu evoke such strong feelings. Can't imagine what I (or Jack) will do when Claire leaves.
She did, by the way, survive her decoupaging session. Her letters look great . . . even she like them.
I couldn't read this post without tears, for I felt the same way when we delivered Daniel all the way...down the street. :) You said it so well. I have just one more year with my David...how I hate to let him go, but I love the man Daniel is becoming. I guess it's worth it! ha.
Thank you so much for this! I am in the adrift stage right now, but I know that her world is opening before her and that God has great plans for her. I didn't pull out a baby blanket, but I did nap in her bed :)
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