It’s been the longest-shortest summer. Ever.
The end of school was an absolute sprint. And really, the whole of Colin's senior year felt like a whirlwind. Rushing from thing to thing. Colin got hit with illnesses back-to-back-to-back. Multiple college visits - AP classes - musicals, music, theater...it was a lot. It has been a lot.
I’ve watched so many other friends send their kids off to school, the military or just off into life – and I’ve just marveled at how easy and natural they made it seem. You all weren't setting me up for an easy landing, because it has not been feeling natural nor easy.
And I get it – we’re one of like, how many millions of parents to send their kid off to college? Out into the world? It should be no-big-deal within our collective DNA by now.
But it is a big deal.
We didn’t know it at the time – but the universe deemed Marly and I to only get one child. So, every first also represented a last. First time seeing our son walk? Also represented the last time we were going to see one of our kid’s take their first step. First day of kindergarten? Also the last first-day-of-kindergarten. We didn’t really know it at that stage, but it dawned on us as Colin grew. And I know each child is a totally different being and the experiences will be vastly unique – but, still, one-and-done has been an adjustment.
We’re going through the experience of high school graduation and sending our kid off to college and becoming empty-nesters…all at once! That’s a lot. For 18 years it’s been the Three Amigos. Setting out three place settings, asking for a table for three at restaurants. Now all the sudden…it’s table-for-two, again.
Marly and I had a talk at the pool the other night about “what did we do before we had Colin?” It was a head-scratcher. It was hard to remember our day-to-day lives before Colin – and it’s certainly not easier picturing what it might be after he heads off. There was a lot of volleyball, I do remember that.
But that conversation in the pool spun me in a different – and selfish – direction. Mortality. We started this journey when we were kids ourselves, essentially. I had long flowing hair and my baby face lacked the lines it carries today. 18 years have gone by in the blink of an eye. If the next 18 years spiral by at the same pace, I’ll blink and find myself in my 60s.
I don’t know when the world sped up. All I know is when I close my eyes and think about it – I feel like I just graduated from Mizzou a few short years ago…and now Colin is heading off to Mizzou himself.
I’m planted firmly, front-row on the struggle bus.
I talked to my boss about the struggle a few weeks ago – many of us are sandwiched between aging parents (or the loss of them), children leaving the nest, and all the while wondering where our hair went? Why is it grey? I’m how old?! Marly and I have even started having the "big R" talk - retirement.
I’d love to say that this blog has been leading me to share that I had some great epiphany. That this blog has ‘the answer’ to all the questions and doubts floating around our heads at this stage in life - plot twist - it doesn’t. And I didn’t.
It’s real easy in our society to default to toxic-positivity; finding ‘happy’ in every scenario. The silver lining. The bright-side.
Not every scenario is happy. Not every moment in life is positive. I think just typing out that this chapter of life is a bit of a slog helps. Are there good moments? Yes, of course. There are great moments! Life isn’t linear nor binary – you’re not happy OR sad. You’re not sad THEN happy. It’s more like a prism with all emotions existing within that one ray of light – you. Those emotions bleeding into one another where a full-on belly laugh quickly devolves into a crying spell (not an unheard-of occurrence in our house recently).
I don’t think I’m going to be “settled” for a few months - and I’ve just got to accept that. I’ve got to accept a significant chapter in my life has closed. I dedicated 18 years of my life in the service and support of one, awesome little human. And letting that go is supremely mental.
I've had to make sacrifices along the way - with limited time, I've not always been the best friend. Nor the best son. Nor the best husband. I know friends and family have at times questioned decisions or not accepted things I've done. We've made sacrifices within our careers. Our marriage relationship sometimes de-prioritized to being 'mom and dad.' Again - nothing new. Many, many parents before us and many, many after us have done and will do the same. But this moment in time feels like you're confronting Judgement Day - were the sacrifices worth it? Did you make the right ones?
And much like George Washington wrote in his farewell address, I too hope that my own faults of incompetent abilities will be consigned to oblivion.
I think back to all of the fears and nerves that I had right before Colin was born. They try to prepare you for that. Entire books are written on the subject. I think the thing we're less prepared for - probably because our heads are too deeply buried in the sand - you don’t get the book-end part of that lesson. You will have similar fears and nerves when those same babies head out on their own path: Did I do enough? Did I prepare him enough? Did I spend enough time with him? Did I appreciate the moments? Was I a good enough dad?
Those are hard questions and I don’t know that any self-aware parent can definitively answer them – maybe ever. I think when I get to the end of my life, if I can give an iffy ‘maybe’ as an answer, I’ll call that a “W.”
And if those questions weren’t enough to keep you awake all night…another, deeper, darker question awaits:
What’s next?
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