If Only Children Didn’t Grow Up

For most of us who watch children grow as they pass by countless varieties of milestones, the sentiment is both bitter and sweet. One milestone is college, when children leave home for the first time. I can’t imagine how parents go through this without falling to pieces. That’s because this month, I’m losing a girl as she grows up and therefore away from me.

This young girl I’m losing is an author who’s been under my wing as I’ve helped her get her feet wet in the world of writing. I’m only admitting to myself now that she never needed me in the first place. She thought she did. I thought she did. I loved being her mentor. I still feel a strong motherly connection. In other words, I love her.

The last time she asked for my guidance with a beautiful essay she wrote, I made a private decision without telling her. I decided not to examine every single word, comma and period like I usually do with the meticulous precision of a mental microscope. Instead, I glanced at it briefly, didn’t change anything, and thought, “Let’s see how she does on her own.”

She did great.

Later, while biking with my husband Bob, I told him how sad I felt. I said, “She doesn’t need me anymore.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“But I don’t want to let her go.”

“You have to. It’s best for her.”

I remember how heartrending it was for my mother when I first went to college. I so wish I hadn’t waited until after her death to find the compassion I should have found back then. But I guess most teenagers are self-absorbed and excited about going away. I have to believe that or I’ll never forgive myself.

Mom and I were at a clothing shop buying stunning outfits for me. As we stood at the counter to pay, she began crying. The clerk asked what was wrong. Mom tried to dry her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the tears. She managed to get out the words, “My little girl is going to college.” The woman touched Mom’s hand and said something like, “I went through it too.” I felt left out because I couldn’t understand what the problem was. But now that my little writer, “daughter,” friend is on her own, I do.

When I came home on school breaks, I couldn’t wait to get back to college - to be with my friends and away from my parents’ control. I didn’t realize I was whistling when Mom said, “Why do you always whistle the night before you’re going back?” I didn’t mean to break her heart. I wish I hadn’t. But now I realize that the emotions we both felt were natural.

So how does a parent deal with a child who’s growing up and away? There must be a way of coming out on the other side of this phase in a positive fashion. When I was a practicing therapist, I learned a seemingly odd truth. We can feel entirely conflicting emotions at the very same moment. And we need to accept them equally.

My dear friend Nancy has a daughter who’s leaving for school. She says, “I have so many mixed feelings. I’m immensely proud of her; how smart and talented she is; how confident she is about going and making something of herself.” But then, with tears forming, she said, “I worry about her safety in a big city. I worry about something happening to her and me not being able to get there in time to help her.” She started to cry. “I want her to go and I don’t want her to go.”

My little brilliant writer will do magnificently on her own. This fills my heart with joy. And that will never change.

But at the same time, I so wish she still needed me.