Permission to Grieve

Source: Photo credit: www.steveandsarahpogue.org

When our children are in the throes of adolescence, with all its trials and tribulations, what we fail to recognize (because we can’t see the trees through the proverbial angst-ridden teen forest)
is that time goes by so unbelievably fast; before we know it, they are grown and gone. What’s more, the very shape of our daily lives changes completely once they’re gone. We tend to take the little
things for granted when we’re in the thick of it all, but as soon as the teen tornado has passed, we miss all the action. When our kids were living at home, they were, whether we realized it or not,
central to our daily routine. Think about it. This is what my daily routine looks like, for just a few more precious months, until my second teen goes off to college:

• 7:00 a.m. Wake teen for school (round one, no success)
• 7:15 Wake teen for school (round two, see stirring and hear grumbling)
• 7:30 Wake teen (round three, and she will now have to step up her pace, which means I officially become the morning nag)
• 7:45 Greet the walking dead with a cheerful “Good morning, sweetie,” get more grumbles in return
• 8:00 Head out for work, give teen one last push out the door, as she will now officially be late, but her hair is not completely straight; tragic
• 8:30 Finally leave the house; we’re both late
• 9:00 Work all day, but intercept several texts throughout the day from teen with questions like: “Can you pick up a black binder on your way home? My project is due tomorrow morning, can you help?”; “What’s for dinner? I’m starving and you didn’t give me any lunch money!”; “I’m going to my friend’s after school, is that ok? She’s gonna help me with homework”; “Can we go buy those boots that I really wanted after school?” And my recent favorite, “We have a big potluck thing planned today in sixth-period Spanish class, can you bring me some of your homemade enchiladas?”
• 4:45 p.m. Think about what to make for dinner, with one teen insisting on eating superhealthy (and only organic, of course) and the other (home from college
  only to eat my free food) wanting sloppy joes
• 5:00 Leave work and go to grocery store (because text from teens explicitly stated that “We never have any food in the house,” even though the local grocer could build a new wing at the store in my name because I shop there every day and spend gobs of money)
• 6:30 Make dinner while teens compare notes on school (high school versus college), the lame teachers, and hot girls and boys in college; I enjoy the witty,
  teen version of repartee
• 7:30 Try to have a sit-down family dinner with teens; fairly successful, though I have to guilt them a couple of times (notice I did not say lecture them
  because that would be nagging) about not texting fifteen other people while real people sit right in front of them at the dinner table
• 8:15 Say loving goodbye to college teen, ask home teen to help clean kitchen; listen to full-blown, Supreme Court–level argument presented by home
  teen over why college teen never has to help clean or do anything, because he is obviously my favorite . . . oh, the injustice of it all (my teen daughter
  should seriously consider becoming an attorney)
• 8:20 Clean kitchen alone, in peace
• 8:30 Ask teen about homework, to which she responds, “Ugh, Mom, I’m just trying to relax for a minute . . . it’s been a long day, and I’m tired.”
• 9:00 Ask teen about homework again (more like told teen to do homework), and now officially become the evening nag
• 9:30 Teen snugly locked away in her room, with TV on, music on, phone exploding, doing homework; time to catch my breath, relax, and have some
  down time (right)
• 9:40 Log on to computer to prepare lectures for next day’s class; also, make dental appointment for teen, help with homework, review/edit college essays and applications, and complete FAFSA
• 11:00 Completely exhausted and on the way to bed;
  but wait, teen is up, finished with homework, and wide awake, texting, chatting, talking, Instagramming, Facebooking, tweeting with friends; tell her to go to bed
• 11:30 Teen still awake, and seemingly rejuvenated; I am delirious; I insist teen turn off electronics and go to bed (again), officially becoming late-night nag
• 12 a.m. Finally in bed, enjoying the quiet and stillness, thinking about the one thousand things to be done tomorrow; teen comes in and kisses me goodnight

Notice that almost every thought, action, or emotion somehow involves my dependent children. And guess what? Tomorrow I get to wake up and do it all over again, at least for a little while longer. I know many parents out there wonder if they are the only ones feeling upset as their children grow up and move out. For a long time, I was actually a bit embarrassed to confess my parental sorrows to people. It felt a little silly or petty compared to, say, someone losing a son or daughter to cancer or some other illness.
I was afraid that perhaps my perspectives and feelings were somehow a consequence of inappropriate attachments or some sort of unhealthy codependent relationship I had fostered—yes, I am a psychologist working overtime. The more I talked to parents with older teens going off to college, however, the more I realized that feelings of loss are a fairly common experience. What a relief! In fact, what I realize now is that some parents not only acknowledge the normality of it all, they go a step further and suggest that we parents of older teens give ourselves permission to grieve when our children move out.

So what can we do? First, keep in contact with your grown kid. Communication (via phone, text, whatever) helps to close the gaping hole in your chest caused by missing your kid. Second, instead of seeing the new situation as a loss, see it as a new version of your relationship with your child. It is also a new opportunity to focus on yourself and who you are, what you like to do, etc. You can now turn your focus to nurturing yourself, and your relationship with your partner, siblings, friends. I've recently decided that I am going to do something just for me: take a stained glass class. I've also decided that now that I have more free time, I'm going to get back into Yoga, and see my friends more often. Whatever works for you, the point is to focus on the new opportunities that you and your child have, and not necessarily on the loss.

Being a parent is likely the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. I grew up in difficult circumstances, have overcome all kinds of hurdles, and earned multiple degrees as a single parent— and I can attest to the fact that parenting my children has been the most difficult, and by far, the most highly prized and valued accomplishment in my life. As parents, we invest every ounce of love, money, time, and energy into creating a person who is kind, wise, and can stand on her own two feet. And although our job is
never really done, our babies do grow up and move on. This is the very essence of life. Yes, it is a bittersweet moment, and somewhat difficult to accept. But above and beyond anything else, what we should feel is an immense sense of pride. Pride in our children for the amazing people they are becoming; and even more, pride in ourselves for making them that way. So kudos to you, my friend. For you have not only created life, you have quite literally touched the future and made this world a better place.