And then there were three...

I’ve had a lump in my throat for the last four weeks.  I go through life looking and functioning like a normal person, but in reality I am Humpty Dumpty, precariously wobbling through the streets hoping that no one will bump my shell, because all of my guts will spill out, and it won’t be pretty.

I know in my brain that this is the normal way things are supposed to go.  Kids grow up, they study hard, they participate in way too many extra-curricular activities, and then they depart for college.  They don’t come back.  Isn’t this what we have been preparing for over the last 4 years?  Taking honors classes, suffering through standardized testing, pursuing multiple sports and volunteer opportunities?  Visiting campus after campus trying to locate the utopian place to continue his/her education?  If you’ve done your job, it is the model product launch, and all of the customers will want the perfect product you created and nurtured for the last 18 years.

My heart is a different matter.  My heart has moved to the top of my esophagus, waiting for the provocation that will send the tears into motion.   I’m afraid to turn on the TV because We are Marshall, Terms of Endearment, or even The Intern might come on, and my welled up fire hydrant of emotions will burst into the world, and let me tell you, it would take one really hot fireman to turn them off.

The college transition is like any other major life changing event:  it is too overwhelming to absorb on its own, so you distract yourself by engaging in the mandatory preparations.  Like preparing the nursery.  Or planning the wedding.  Or in this case packing a few “Take-a-ton” Samsonite lightweight duffle bags with a year’s worth of clothing, choosing the fixings to cozy up a stark dorm residence, and setting the record for trips to Staples.  You are racing around like an idiot PREPARING and before you know it, that awkward moment has come where you have to say goodbye to your firstborn.  There is so much to say that you end up saying nothing at all as you hold back your sobs and make a quick dash to the car.  From then on, he is let loose to make his own decisions, and you do not know where he is (2071 miles away according to Find My iPhone), what he is doing or who he is hanging out with, or if he is even still alive.  

I’m actually good with all of that, he either has the tools or he doesn’t at this point.  It is time for some real world testing; we are no longer in the beta phase.  It is me that I’m worried about.  I will miss the way he calls my name when he walks in the door, the way he leaves “droppings” around the house, how he shares one his inappropriate jokes from social media and can’t stop giggling, taking hikes together, going to movies, and the way he and his sister laugh together at the kitchen counter.  I’m also afraid for the complete tectonic shift in the family dynamic that is hard to predict, but I know is coming.  I calculate the quake to be somehwere around a 5.5 with reverberations felt far and wide.  There is a certain set of checks and balances in any family that is altered when a member leaves the nest.  When Blake is anxious, Mac takes him on a bike ride and he returns less stressed.  When Shaye is acting like a big shot, Mac puts her back in her place.  When I’m mad at the dogs, Mac makes fun of me and I forget how much they annoy me.  Of course, he wasn’t always the calming factor.  He could definitely do his share of instigating…

A friend recently recommended the book “Passages” to me.  Wait, isn’t that the book that was on my mother’s nightstand for like 10 years?  Is it still relevant?  Apparently a mother’s feelings haven’t changed much in the last 40 years – and how she deals with them hasn’t evolved either.   This is called being human; it isn’t something that can be fixed with new technology or some fancy medical device.  Matters of the heart are timeless.

On the positive side of things, I have less laundry, grocery shopping, food preparation, overall cleaning, and driving to do.  And most of all, he seems to be happy and enjoying his classes, professors, and new friends.  Which trumps all of my sadness in one fell swoop.