28/06/2023
Beautiful
Food. Clothing. Shelter.
It started there. It ended there. I’m referring to the raising portion of parenting. Let me explain.
Last week, my husband and I dropped off our youngest son in Texas to begin his first job.
I can do this, I reminded myself, scouring the Internet for online furniture deals and tips on finding apartments. It means we’ve done a good job. He’s ready, I whisper under my breath.
We have three children, all in their twenties. The launching phase is what we call it; the urging forward of our favorite humans. Separate from us and on three very different paths. Like rockets heading into the night sky.
Twenty-eight years ago, we brought our oldest (daughter) home from the hospital. The Irish nurse in the maternity wing demonstrated how to diaper and dress our tiny little girl. I was breast feeding (or trying to) at the time. The nurse tried to calm our nerves by offering advice.
“Today you start with food, clothing and shelter. The rest comes tomorrow,” she said with a lilting brogue. I never forgot it. Why had it popped into my head years later as we lugged our son’s boxes and suitcases up three flights in the 100-degree Texas heat?
As the mom, I’d been in charge of things for so long. I’d never stopped to think about how little had actually been under my control.
We divided up jobs for the move: I’d be in charge of ordering a couch, bedding and kitchen stuff. My husband would buy a TV and stock the fridge. Our son would do all of the packing. His lease was already co-signed. The key was waiting.
Food. Clothing. Shelter.
Back were we started? So many things in life seem to loop back around. I remember the tender way my mother pulled me close to read before bedtime. Years later, I held her hand as she slipped away.
The first and most important parenting chapter has closed. Whether I was ready or not. It was defining. All consuming. It mattered, I remind myself.
My husband and I won’t need to feed or clothe or house our three grown children anymore. We stand in front of another door now. A new chapter, all the parenting articles say. Weddings. Grandchildren. New adventures ahead.
A loop.
Of love. Of connection. Pieces of one another that we hold—even when our loved ones are out of sight. In our hands. In our hearts.
Most days I have faith that won’t change. That when part of you moves to a third floor walk up four states away, somehow he can also be right here.—By Cathleen Daly