I want to start by saying that I've always hated the story The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. I've never seen this as what Christian love should be. We are called to love our neighbors as ourselves, which inversely means we are called to love ourselves as our neighbors. Allowing ourselves to be used and abused is not loving to ourselves. Frankly, it's also not loving to the other as it allows them to have using, abusing relationships that are not healthy for them either.
That being said, this week a good friend pointed out that parenting is a lot like The Giving Tree and I have to say that really resonated. Our kids love us. Of course they do. But they love us in the needing us, using us, taking from us kind of way. That's the nature of the relationship. And conversely, we love them by giving all that we have, ALL that we have for their growth, their wholeness, their well-being. And in the end, they leave us. They leave us and form more equal relationships out in the world. They leave us and have their own kids to give to, to care for. We raise our kids to take all we can give and to go out on their own, leaving us behind. And we feel we've been a success when they "launch" well: go into the world as successful adults, no longer returning to us to get their needs met.
We are happy when they launch well, when they live full lives, when they succeed in the "growing up" thing. But as Shel Silverstein also says, "... but not really." And what I mean by that is that while we are thrilled FOR our kids, while we feel proud and happy and would never choose anything different than their successful launch into the world; while we encourage and support and are so very pleased when at the end of the day they go out on their own and handle it well; at the same time, we have raised them to leave us. And the grief in that is real.
I would say at one level maybe this grief is one of the hardest kinds of grief there is because we aren't SUPPOSED to feel it. I came home from Alaska, after taking my son there to begin his first year of college, just a few days ago. And I have not been able to stop crying. The best I can do is to keep so busy that I don't have time to think about it much, though, because I'm not "supposed" to feel this way. When people share their grief about other things, those around them can support them, often hold them, extend care for them. When I mention that I'm having a hard time because I miss my son so terribly, the inevitable reaction is "Yes, but aren't you happy for him?" Of course I'm happy for him! AND I'm grieving for me. But those comments discount my grief. They try to wipe it away. It is a telling me "you shouldn't feel that way!" As a result, this is a grief I have to suffer alone. There is no support for it. Only a strong reprimand to "be happy for him!" as if my happiness for him and my grief for me were mutually exclusive.
I love my son. I love him as both a part of myself and as much more than myself. I love him for the fact that he is my son. But I also love who he is and who he has become. I love that he is smart and thoughtful, that he deeply feels compassion and empathy for others, that he is self-reflective and quick to apologize when he has hurt someone. I love that he works HARD at school, at friendships, at connections with others. I love that he forgives often and easily. I love that he likes to engage in real conversations about real issues. I love that he is not afraid to disagree, though he does get concerned when he upsets someone with what he says. I value that he has so many interests from flying to photography to science, to the ranch, to weight lifting and hiking, etc.. I love that he tries things and is willing to stretch and grow. I love him. And I miss him desperately. Just as I love my first child and hurt so terribly much when they left, I love my son and miss seeing him everyday, talking with him everyday, even arguing with him every day (because... well, there you are. That's my relationship with my son and has been for the last 18 1/2 years). So the possibility of not grieving for him? Non-existent. Not realistic at all. I am grieving. Terribly: as anyone who truly loved another person would when they leave, when they go away, when they start a life that is separate from you.
That grief is not a bad thing. That grief is a sign of the love I have for him. So today I am trying to be gentle with me, even when those around me cannot accept my grief. I am trying to give my grief space, even when others think it is a sign that I am not a good mother. I am going to allow the tears for today. Because I am hurting. I have launched my dear boy into the world and my own harbor is much emptier without him. It is okay for me to notice this, to grieve this, even as I celebrate who he is and who he is becoming.
If you are in a similar space, I wish you peace. But before then, I wish you space for your grieving. It's okay to feel this way. It's a mark of your deep love.
