Don't You Forget About Me...

...so go the words of the infamous closing song in the movie The Breakfast Club. The drama queen in me hums this song frequently as of late, since my son has seemingly forgotten to call, text, or write home several times a day - I mean, that's what they're supposed to do, right?  

No news is good news, I suppose...at least that's what I'm trying to convince myself of.  It's been just over a week since we left my son 3,000 miles away on the other side of the country. Much to my disappointment, I've only heard from him a few times - once to ask me to upgrade his meal plan, once to ask me to buy tickets to a comedy show being offered over Parent's Weekend (in 20 days, 13 hours, and 24 minutes from now when I'll get to see my son again!), and once in a text to share a short, but moving video clip of the university's opening mass, at which 10,000 students in a dimly lit Pavilion held candles and sang a blessing over the incoming freshman class - WOW!

I must say, I'm a bit surprised. I guess I had an inflated opinion of just how much he'd miss me and our family. I've tried to give him his 'space' only sending occasional texts like "Hope you're having a great day!" and "Happy first day of classes!" I must admit, I'm a bit like a desperate girlfriend, carrying my phone with me everywhere I go with the volume button on high, coveting every bar indicating I have a full battery just in case my son DOES decide to call. I've clamored to my ringing phone excitedly like a crazed school girl on more than a few occasions - so, sorry if I seem disappointed at the sound of your voice should you call. 

I miss my boy, I really do. I have likened the departure of 18 year olds off to college to a bunch of chicks venturing out in the barnyard for the first time - so many exciting things to see, do, eat, drink...yet so many dangers lurking at every turn for an unsuspecting chick. My worry for my son was tragically compounded by the recent death of a local boy on the eve of his senior year of high school and the death yesterday of a sophomore girl at the very university my son now attends - just four days into the new school year. My heart breaks for the families of those children, for it is a poignant reminder of just how precious life truly is. 

Circumstance, success, and accidents happen - in those things I recognize that my child, like anyone else's, will need to own their own journey in life as they are being 'fine tuned' in their faith. 

In all my angst and worry, I've discovered that the farther I go from God, or the realization that He truly is the One in control, the worse I feel. After battling cancer and giving it ALL up to Him, you'd think I'd know better by now. I believe He is once again fine tuning my faith even more during this major transition in my life and the life of my family. I have done the job that God blessed me with, now I need to recognize that it's His time to take over. "Teach your children to choose the right path, and when they are older, they will remain upon it." Proverbs 22:6.  

And just like the song I dramatically hum to myself, God tells us - Don't you forget about Me.

I promise, I won't. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0jlHz0wF0Ig

Time to Soar

Well, I'm sure you've heard about enough of my ups and downs on the road to sending my son to college. 

After a full day of orientation for the parents and students, Villanova held a beautiful mass at which they blessed the incoming freshman as the parents placed their hands on the heads of their children.  It was a fitting way to send him off and say goodbye. He seemed very happy. 

The priest ended mass by saying "You gave them roots, we'll give them wings, and together we'll watch them soar!"  

I can live with that. 

 

Move-In Day

After a delayed departure and very long flight, we arrived in Philadelphia at 1:30am Wednesday to find our rental car had been rented to someone else. As we waited in the humid Pennsylvania night air for another car rental shuttle, I was painfully aware that the time left with my son could now be measured in single digit days, soon becoming hours. 

On the plane ride to Philly, I found myself envying the woman two rows away from us with the rambunctious and vocal two year old. I had to stop myself from telling her several times to 'enjoy every minute!" as she scolded her son for what she thought was being too loud. 

I was comforted by the fact that what seemed like an annoying and long trip to me with delays, awful airplane food (and airplane bathrooms - yuck!) and cancelled car reservations, seemed like a magical journey to my son. He enjoyed the flight, frequently gazing at the nation's major cities lit up like birthday cakes as we flew over them. He was excited for not only the airplane food, but the airport food, even commenting once it would be 'fun' to sleep in an airport if his flight ever got cancelled. 

I must admit, as we waited for our luggage, I looked at everyone around us as someone who could in some way try to hurt, scam, or take advantage of my son if he were here alone at this major metropolitan airport at 1:30am on a future trip. Pearls of wisdom along with ridiculous comments began to flow from my mouth with beauties like "Never take the train this late at night, you'll get mugged!" and "Watch out for gypsy cabs, you'll get mugged!" and "Never take a cab ride from someone offering it at the baggage claim, you'll get mugged!"  My son in return tells me he WILL take the train and that I don't need to worry. I look at his naive and trusting face and worry some more thinking I did not do my kid any favors by raising him in a 'bubble' that is our hometown. 

I remind myself that he is confident and does not in any way seem bothered by the things that seem to bother me...and once again, that gives me comfort. 

As we wait for our second rental car of the night, my son wonders aloud where the nearest 24 hour pizza place is and if they deliver.  I remind him not to spend all his money on pizza (or beer) at which my son becomes mildly annoyed  - and then it hits me. Hard. 

My role is shifting from mother to advisor, one who gives advice.  But to clarify, I must wait for my son to ASK for it, and recognize that even IF he does, he may not follow my advice anyway. And that is how it will and has to happen. 

At this exact moment, I'm cherishing the last few minutes I have watching my son sleep in our hotel room, as we are minutes away from the alarm clock urging us to get up, pack up, and move our son into his new college and new home for the next 9 months.  I panic for a moment as the alarm goes off and not only does my son not notice, but he doesn't even stir. I stop myself from translating that into him sleeping through his alarm at school. 

Once up and moving, my son's phone pings with an email from his Italian teacher at Villanova - Gaetano Pastore - with a syllabus for his upcoming Intro to Italian class. I find that very cool. 

I put on a smile and get ready for this new adventure my son is moments away from embarking on. He's got his boxes, and I've got mine - only mine are filled with Kleenex. 

Table For Four

As my oldest son spends his last week of summer at home before heading to college, I find my duties as a mother ever shifting. It's a strange feeling to 'let go' and realize your child is in 100 percent control of their future!  

My husband has pointed out to me that as I lose 'control' of my eldest, I seem to be trying to have more (and seemly unnecessary) control on my remaining two chicks in the nest. Perhaps I'm being a bit smothering, you could say. Oh well, I'm adjusting, and so will they. After many years of not being able to fit into a booth at restaurants, at least we've got that going for us while my son is away at Villanova. 

Here's a one minute animation my 16 year old junior in high school created this summer at UCLA Animation Camp...I couldn't be more proud!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OiRk94lnsYU

Life goes on...

Roots and Wings

I just finished washing, folding, and packing my son's college bedding to ship off to Villanova where it will wait for us to arrive in just over one week. I wondered as I smelled the fresh sheets how often (if ever!) my son would wash his sheets once he's on his own. 

My husband and I lovingly packed three boxes which, when unpacked, will essentially become his new home for the next 9 months.  I find myself pausing at

photos of my son when he was younger and wishing I could go back to that time in our lives when college seemed an eternity away. 

I don't think I would be having such a hard time with this if it weren't for the fact that my son is really a great person, one I'm proud of in every way, and one I will miss dearly. Of course, the piles of smelly laundry on his bathroom floor and dirty dishes left in front of the TV can be annoying, but truth be told, I'm even going to miss that stuff too. 

I can't help but recall the times he needed me, even clung to me, and didn't want to let go for school or a summer camp. Yet now he's so self assured, confident, and even eager to go all the way across the country without seemingly a care or any hesitation about being homesick. I'm thrilled at his independence but saddened at the thought of not having him around on a day to day basis - a very bittersweet time indeed. 

I cried, no sobbed, at the latest Apple commercial which depicts people using Face-Time to connect over long distances.  I cried to a saleswoman because they were out of crucifix necklaces as I insisted to her he needed one to keep him safe...she quickly got the manager involved and they are shipping one to me overnight.  I cried as I  wondered if I've taught my son everything he needs to know and then cried some more when I realize I have so much more to teach him before he leaves - he graciously lets me rattle off some last minute wisdom, knowing I will cry again if he does not. 

I'm so grateful that cancer has not loomed over us this past year as it did the year before. I'm happy that my son can leave our home with not only the experience of our family uniting through such a tribulation, but with the knowledge that we survived it too. I'm relieved that I look and feel healthy, normal, and that my focus is no longer on cancer but as it should be, on my children, particularly my son as he sets out on this new and exciting time in his life. I'm comforted knowing that cancer will not be a worry to my son while he is away. 

Finally, I'm content...content with the outcome, for we gave him roots and then gave him wings, and as difficult as it has been and will be in the coming weeks...I truly am proud to see him fly. 

Permission to Grieve

Lisa Atham is a Grief Recovery Specialist and Executive Director of Grief Speaks, an organization dedicated to normalizing grief and educating children, teens and adults about grief, loss and healthy ways to cope. Lisa's website is www.griefspeaks.com and it provides a great wealth of information about many different types of loss, including articles about grief and resources. Lisa speaks all over NJ to children, teens and adults at schools, colleges, hospitals and as a keynote at conferences on healthy coping with grief and loss due to a variety of situations.

Her article below sums up exactly how I'm feeling with the impending departure of my oldest son for college in just over a week...seeing my son off to the East Coast is proving to be one of the most emotionally difficult and bittersweet experiences I have ever had as a mother.  It is redefining and shifting my role as a parent and I am definitely grieving...

Permission to Grieve ~ by Lisa Atham 

"I remember four years ago August very clearly. The focus was on my oldest daughter Carly going off to college. She was only going an hour away to Monmouth University, however, I still felt sad that she wouldn't be living home anymore. Don't get me wrong, I also felt happy, proud and excited as well but the grief was the emotion that I was feeling the strongest. I realized during that summer and fall the importance of listening to others when they share their sadness over changes in their lives. I truly needed someone to listen to me but had trouble finding people who would truly just listen. Instead, when I did share about my feelings of grief, most people were not at all supportive and even looked at me strangely and said with a judgmental tone, "Aren't you happy for her?", "Isn't her going to college a good thing?", "I couldn't wait till mine left." I walked away from most of these interactions feeling unheard, frustrated, and feeling that that there was something wrong with me.  After all there are commercials on TV showing parents pretending to be sad when the kids leave home and then jumping for joy and throwing parties. So what was wrong with me? Why couldn't I only feel happy and thrilled at this wonderful opportunity for Carly? I guess I wasn't supposed to be sad or at the very least I wasn't supposed to talk about it.

So I stopped telling others how I felt. I also vowed to become a better comforter of others when they shared with me any sadness or pain in their lives. I also wanted to teach others how to really listen to their friends, loved ones and co-workers when they shared anything emotional.  I would remind them not to try to fix it or to be so quick to offer advice. Just listen and try to understand. It isn't hard to really listen, but it is a skill that we would all benefit from practicing.  I wish that listening was taught in school. Our relationships would improve immensely.

Grief is not only due to a death or divorce, but grief can come from any type of separation, ending or change in our lives. I found myself comparing my loss to other's losses. As a grief counselor, I warn folks not to do this. I shamed myself when I thought of all of those I know who have lost a child through death and knew that this loss could not even come close. Minimizing my loss though didn't help. My grief felt like an ending. It was the beginning of the end of my experience of being the kind of mom as I had been for the past 17 years. It was the beginning of my children becoming independent and not needing me in the same way as they had before. I know that is what is supposed to happen and all about giving our children roots and wings, but knowing that didn't make it feel any better.

I loved having all of my kids home and around. I don't think that will ever change. I started to wonder about other parents. Weren't they sad as well?  How can we live with our children for 17, 18 or 19 years and then drop them off at college without us experiencing any feelings of grief? I came up with many ideas: Maybe some didn't really like being with their kids.  Maybe some were denying their true feelings of sadness or just pretended they were "fine".  Maybe some were truly anxious to get back to their own lives that didn't involve their children as much. Whatever it was, I wanted to find the other parents who felt like me. I was on a mission. I even ran a workshop in town four years ago called: They're Excited About Going Away to College, But What About Us?  About ten moms attended the workshop and it was great to share with each other.

Over the past four years I have spoken with many moms and dads who have shared their own grief with me about their children leaving home. Often with couples, it is one parent who expresses sadness more than the other. Some confide to me that it is their own spouse who "shamed them" about their feelings of grief, especially if the dad was grieving.

I recently had the pleasure of meeting a Navy Seal dad at a Long Island AAU basketball tournament, who shared with me that of all the experiences he has had in his life, including that of a Seal, nothing was as hard as dropping his oldest daughter off to college last year and saying goodbye. He told me how he cried the whole drive back. He has five children and is already grieving about his second child who is a high school senior who will be going away next year. I felt such a sense of validation from this kind father's honest sharing. It helped me to feel better about my own feelings. Sometimes just talking to others who feel similarly to the way we feel can help enormously. We don't feel so alone and we feel a bit more "normal".

Anyway, if you are a parent who has a child going away to college and you feel sad, find people who will listen to you and show comfort. Allow yourself to feel the grief. Don't talk yourself out of how you feel. Find support on Facebook as many parents I see lately doing. "Pack lots of tissues" one mom said in a post to another who shared that they were on their way to college.

It really does get easier, although I will confess that each year she packed up and left I cried. One time Carly said, "Mom, I am a senior at college. We have been through this many times. Why do you still cry when I leave?" "I don't know", I sniffled, "I just miss you."  I guess it's love or neurosis, but that is who I am. I know I will cry when my younger ones leave the nest as well, but at least they all know how I get, so it won't be a surprise to them. Who knows maybe it makes them realize just how much they are loved. I hope so.

Listening is a high art of loving. Ask yourself, "When is the last time I really listened to my child? My parent? My brother or sister?"  When someone is ready to share, three magic words amplify your connection, and they are, "Tell me more." ~ Rev. Mary Manin Morrissey

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