Emptying the Next – Part 1

In August our son left for college providing me with the opportunity to learn up close and personal about life’s transitions once again.  For months I rode anticipatory waves of:  sadness about the end of this chapter, loneliness over the sound and sense of emptiness in the house, worry and fear about how my husband and I would relate without Jordan as one of the primary focal points of our attention and the topic of many conversations.  This was more than a change in Jordan’s life. It was a change of life for my husband, for me, and for us as a couple. Yet it was also time – he was ready.  In fact he had been ready for the past 6 months and our household was nearly splitting at the edges from containing the tension of his need to be independent (at least partially so).  I also felt secure that as parents we had done what was needed and what we could to prepare him for the road ahead.  It was time for him to feel the ups and downs of life without our protection.  I hoped, and still do, that he will learn along the way. 

We chose to drive to Ohio and back so that we might experience a journey through this transition rather than an abrupt change via air transport. Jordan spent most of day 1 in the back seat of the rented van headphones blocking out the opportunity for those rich meaningful talks I imagined. When we got to Niagara Falls, however, we were three – four including the dog.  We walked and gawked and talked. 

Rather than leave the ending to chance we planned a nice dinner at a recommended restaurant the evening before drop off.  We also asked him to picture what he wanted upon arriving at his dorm – butterflies in my stomach even as I write this.  “We can drop you off, take your things out of the car and leave. We can help you get settled in your room and go out to lunch. We can stay overnight and say goodbye the next morning.”  As you read his response, keep in mind that he had been over the top obnoxious during the previous months – turning them into what seemed like years. With that smile that wishes it could stay hidden but emerges in a sheepish and endearing way he replied, “I want you to stay and help set up my room.”   This turned into one of the more delightful aspects of the transition. Our son, in one small but significant way, was morphing into an adult before our eyes. He took charge and directed us with confidence. “Sweaters on the top shelf.  Please hang my jeans so they won’t get wrinkled.”  And I willingly followed directions. What a wonderful turn of the tables and beginning of the role reversal.  AHHHH!  Having proved his competence, he asked for advice about the best way to arrange the furniture.  He expressed concern that his roommate wasn’t there.  “I don’t want to make all these decisions without him. He should have a say. But I don’t want to just sit around and wait. What do you think I should do?”  Other kids, their parents and sibs stopped by to chat or check the furniture arrangement. We did the same. It felt good. We were leaving our son to a generally friendly and congenial group.  Finally Mike arrived. A quiet young man, a perfect match for our overly-extroverted son who is always stirring up social activities. And oh how I loved that he refurbished his father’s old 10 speed and brought it to this very same college that his father attended.  I did the corny Mom thing and took pictures of the two of them then handed Mike the camera for a few family shots.

We took a shopping trip to the local department store, letting Mike and his family spend time together while putting their touches on the room.  When we returned, there was little left to do. We all knew. It was time, and with grace Jordan eased us to the door and said he would like to walk us to the car – butterflies and tears now as I write. I was surprised.  Somehow I did not have an advanced picture for this part.  We stood by the van, no awkwardness.  I caught the moment when Jordan held out his arms to hug his father (real tears now). Bob happened to turn away just at that moment, and I saw the disappointment on my son’s face, which was quickly erased when Bob saw those open arms and closed himself into them.  It was a beautiful scene that I will never (never say never) forget.  (Tears falling down my face now.) I was next.  A hold not a hug.  But he was not holding on like in preschool.  He was saying “Goodbye and thank you for bringing me to this point in my journey.  I am equipped.  I will be fine here.  I love you, and I wish you well on the next part of your journey without me.”  He climbed in the trunk of the van, said “goodbye” to the dog, waited until we got in, and closed my door.

Our Southern College Tour-Spring 08

J’s graduation party-July 08

 Click here for Part 2 - A Space in the Nest for Blueberry Bushes