Prepping for Round Two

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“Things change. They always do, it’s one of the things of nature. Most people are afraid of change, but if you look at it as something you can always count on, then it can be a comfort.” ~Robert Kincade, The Bridges of Madison County

If you’re thinking this blog entry is doomed because it’s prefaced with a quote from the Bridges of Madison County, well… you might be right. I haven’t exactly been cranking out fully engaging, mind-blowing posts lately.

This week, Sam received his acceptance to Iowa State University. The second of my two boys has legit plans to leave our home next fall and while he was off in the living room, talking with one of his buddies, excitedly making plans for living arrangements and questioning the importance of air conditioning in a dorm, I was in a corner of the nearby dining room, curled up in the fetal position, desperately trying to stifle my cries. Also, who the hell questions the need for air conditioning? What is wrong with my kid? To his credit, my mom always called our house “the meat locker” due to its constant state of 64 degrees. Have I pushed our son away from us just because our house requires gloves and jackets in the summer or does he really, really want to go to college and further his education? And hey, before you get all judgy about my temperature control, I have actually increased the indoor temp to 67, so chill out everyone! No, seriously. Chill out.

But here it is. He’s finished his junior year of high school and now I’m right back where I was three years ago, preparing my heart and my mind for this long year of “lasts”. The last first day of school. The last night of marching band. The last concert. The last watching him drive away as he heads off for his school day. And I know what’s coming- it’s a storm of emotions of pride and fear and love and anger and confusion. Because dammit, I love having him home but he’s a man now and I have to let him be one. He’s excited and I have to be excited too, in front of him, because I love him and I want the best for him, but inside, my heart is breaking into a million little fragile pieces.

I was thinking back to January of 2019, when we were getting ready to send John off into the world on his own. John didn’t take the four year college and dorm life route. Instead he opted for a community college, located an hour and fifteen minutes from our home, to acquire a two-year degree in Fire Science. He would be living in an apartment- like a real grown up. The day before he left, John and I spent the day together, packing his things so we could move him to Cedar Rapids. In an episode of The Office, Oscar says, “time is a son of a bitch”. That quote crossed my mind so many times that day. It seemed like I was just rocking him to sleep in my arms, taking first-day-of-school pictures, buying him his first pair of football cleats, cheering him at the sidelines, witnessing his last football game and then, finally, feeling like I was watching a movie of someone else’s life while he walked on stage and accepted his high school diploma. And now, here I was, busy packing things for his new apartment- dishes and pans so he can cook for himself, bedding, cleaning supplies… big boy stuff. It was painful. It made my heart hurt. And it left a lump in my throat that I couldn’t swallow.

But honestly, what did I think was going to happen when he graduated high school? Did I think he would just live here, with us, his lame parents, forever? If he did, I didn’t do my job as his mom.

But, oh please, please, just stay forever.

A frequent flyer on my playlist when I’m driving is a Tom Petty tune called “Walls”. The last verse in particular ran through my head while I was helping him pack that day and all the days since, reminding me that I have to learn to accept the change at hand and all the pain that comes with it…

“Some things are over
Some things go on.
Part of me you’ll carry
Part of me is gone.

But you’ve got a heart so big
It could crush this town.
And I can’t hold out forever
Even walls fall down.”

Ultimately, John’s move to Cedar Rapids was a success. We were there most of the day, getting him settled and organized. We took him shopping and out to eat. At one point, while he and I were in the kitchen, organizing things into drawers, he said, “you can come back next weekend, Mom.” Those words were like long- awaited medicine for an ailment from which I’d been suffering for months. Truth be told, I hadn’t really thought much about whether he would miss me or not; I guess I assumed he wouldn’t. And then I felt a little selfish for thinking that I was the only one feeling the pain of this change, the overwhelmingness of his growing up.

When Scott & I left John’s apartment that day, I opened the door to leave and then we each gave him a hug and told him we loved him. He hugged us tightly and then said, “I love you too. Now get out, you’re wasting my heat.” It’s good that he has a sense of humor- it kept me from crying as we walked away. Scott and I got in the U-Haul and began to pull out of the parking lot. He looked around the cab and said, “do we have everything?” It was as though my emotions had been under a huge amount of pressure and his question sent them into combustion mode. I burst into tears, went into a fit of panic and shouted, “No! We don’t! We just left my baby in his first apartment to fend for himself!!”

Then I ugly cried all the way home.

I learned two things that weekend. First, time discriminates against no one. It has no remorse, no sympathy; the world just keeps turning. I guess you can lament the loss of it or you run alongside of it, capturing and savoring every moment you have left along the way.

The second lesson I learned was that separation is just geography. When we returned home, I told a friend that I felt like I had left a piece of my heart in Cedar Rapids. She replied that I took a piece of his back home with me. It left me speechless, that comment, because I realized that’s how we all work, right? When you love someone, you share your pieces with each other- that’s how we stay connected.

Looking back on it now, it was so hard but we’ve come so far. In fact, John’s done with his college career already and well on his way to becoming a firefighter. Like all things, it was challenging at first, almost unbearable at times, but the days, weeks and months seem to soften the pain, while hardening our resilience and making us stronger.

So I guess it’s time to prepare myself for the second round. I’ll be busy making lots of “last” memories, but we’ll be making lots of “firsts” too. You know, the first time we drop him off and drive away, leaving him to fight his own battles in a bigger world; the first time he calls home because he’s homesick but also three hours away, the first time…excuse me… I need a Kleenex.

You don’t need to be in the same position I’m in to relate. We all experience change every day. Some of it is easy to navigate, leaving us feeling strong and confident. But some of it is heavy and we just want to put it down and walk away. Stay strong friends. Whatever you’re facing, whatever changes are being presented to you, take them on with vigor and continue to challenge yourself to the very end.

Oh, did I mention that in the first semester in his apartment, the first semester that I left my son alone, in an unfamiliar town, in a new place where he knew NO ONE, that someone in the apartment living below him shot off a gun and the bullet came up through John’s living room? Yeah, see? Change isn’t ALL bad. You got this. No sweat.