In reading an entry on sanemoms.com this morning, I sat for a moment with my future sadness. I have always known that my children would leave someday, fly the coop, so to speak, and go out to make their way in the world. What I hadn’t taken enough time to digest is that their absence in my home will leave a gaping wound on my heart. In her entry, Sane Mom suggests that, beginning as part of our bodies, our children physically take pieces of us with them. I know that the same is true on a metaphysical level.
My children are the most beautiful mosaics. They are composed of pieces of me, my husband, the experiences we share as a family, the happy, sad, and frustrating moments, the skinned knees, the bruised feelings, the triumphs and disappointments. From the day each of them entered the world, I have devoted myself to making sure that their mosaics were bright, colorful and full of texture. I have tried to craft a life for them that will propel them forward into their independence with confidence and joy. For nearly 10 years, my world has revolved around these precious people in whom my heart resides.
Looking forward to a day when they take their leave of my home, my stomach flutters. The knot rises in my throat and the tears collect in my eyes as I imagine a day when my home no longer echoes with the sound of someone yelling, “MOM!” and my lap is eerily empty of a warm and snuggling child. I never expected that motherhood would be easy, but I don’t think I adequately considered the fact that someday I would have to let my babies go. I have some years to adjust to that inevitability, but somehow I don’t think I’ll ever really like the idea.