The ramblings of a mother of 3, substitute teacher, wife, chef/short-order cook, taxi driver, and finder of all things lost.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
I thought I was ready. After the summer we had, I thought my emotions would be in check, and my heart wouldn't break, but they weren't and it has.
Mr 18 left for college yesterday at 9:45 a.m. By 11 a.m. I was still in tears. Over the course of the summer people would ask if we were ready for him to leave. Our response was always, "oh yes, more than ready!" But we lied, all summer, we lied. We weren't ready.
Friday was spent finishing packing, doing the necessary banking, paperwork and preplanning so that Mr 18 could get out the door on Saturday morning without us. Unfortunately our schedules don't allow for time for us to drive him 7.5 hours across the state to his college of choice. Fortunately he has two friends also going to the same school. They will have to all help each other as only 1 of the parents can manage the trip.
Saturday morning came all too fast, and Mr 18 was showered and ready to go. I'd been in tears before this, but promised myself that I wasn't going to put him through his mother crying right before he left. Apparently I'm not good at keeping promises, because with his hug the floodgates opened up, and I sobbed. As he said goodbye to the girls and to a sobbing Hubby, I sat on the couch and cried into my hands. Mr 18 returned for another hug before walking out the door. We all stood to wave goodbye at the window. (of course Mr 18 forgot something and had to come back in the house, noticeable was his heaving chest and red eyes)
As he drove away we all waved, the girls retreated into their bedrooms and shut their doors. Hubby and I spent some time crying in each others arms before we each went to one of the girls, with boxes of Kleenex in hand. After calming the girls, (Miss 15 didn't need all that much calming, she headed outside to clean the car that she will now inherit as her own when she gets her license) I went out to the back deck with a cup of coffee and cried some more. Any emotion that I thought I had control of was out the window at this point.
When I dropped Mr 18 at daycare for the first time at a young 10 months of age, I cried, when I took him to kindergarten on the first day of school, I cried, when I made him switch schools in second grade, I cried. But those were tears of 6 to 7 hours of not having him with me. These were tears dedicated to 18 years of giving up my heart and soul to everything he ever needed. They were tears of a broken heart because he was doing exactly what he was supposed to do and what I spent all these years leading up to, he is supposed to leave. He is supposed to grow up and live his own life. I had 18 years to prepare for this day. I wasn't ready.
Left behind on his bed, when I could finally walk into his not-so-empty room, was his blankets that he has slept with since he was a baby, and the Elmo that he has slept with since he was 2. They were laying on his now stripped bed. Again with the tears and the emotions that apparently aren't controlled at all. I wonder how hard it was for him to leave them behind, and I wonder how hard it was for him to leave us behind.