I've been thinking of my sister these past few days. That isn't so unusual, I think of her frequently during the course of any given week. But especially this week. She and I haven't always seen eye to eye about things in the past. She is a "doer" whilst I am fine doing nothing. But this particular week, we have more in common than we ever have.
We both love our children fiercely. They, all of them, are unique individuals. And at one time or another they have plucked our heart strings to the point of near breaking. They haven't done it on purpose, mind you. None of our children are cruel. But in their winding, wandering way of getting to adulthood, they have turned down paths which we both wished they hadn't. And with twisting fingers and bleeding cuticles, we have allowed them their journeys believing that they must navigate themselves. We couldn't (and can't) do it for them. This is the hardest part of parenting if you ask me. Allowing them that space to make mistakes and learn from them.
Eight years or so ago, our son went West. He and a good friend drove cross country and landed in California. It was a dream of his and he worked hard for it. He is still working hard, employed and creating in ways he hoped to do. I'm proud and pleased for and of him. But he's out there. And I'm back here. He isn't here for most birthdays, anniversaries or even the Fourth of July. He's been here for Christmas every year so far--which pleases me no end. But he isn't here for those little side comments and small jokes of everyday life. He comes home and rushes to see all those people here who love and miss him, and he never has enough time to fit everyone in. He wa sick, like hospital sick, while out there. And I saw a picture of him sent by his lovely and caring girlfriend of him in the ER. If you think I wasn't working on getting a ticket out there within minutes, you don't know me. But I didn't go because he handled it and he didn't need me out there hovering.
And my sister's second son, the one who she has finally connected with; who has taken to coming over just for a quick swim, or to help with a sick pet, or to borrow yet another tool; that son is leaving for sunny CA. And his significant other is going as well. Well, she got a job out there, so it's really that he's along for the ride, but you get the idea. She has become a daughter to my sister. Sharing thoughts and recipes and laughter. The asides, the little jokes, the quick drop overs will not be--at least for three years. And Sis is having a hard time. And I totally get it. I wish so badly that I could either take away the feeling of loss, or go visit her. I unfortunately cannot take time off this week. But she's in my head and my heart. And I remember that sense of watching a piece of your self go off in the car, believing that this is the right thing to do, but hating it all the same.
So I'm writing this down for her and for me. As we sniff into our tissues in separate places watching our sons go West.
