Letting Go: Adult Children

We are not happy, this troupe of four adults driving north to Virginia.  Rhea is leaving us.  Rhea has spent the last two years being side tracked with her family while her life passes by…  We have had “life interrupted”.  That is the only way that I can describe what happens to a family when a parent dies young.  My childrens’ father died when he was 54; he died from his one and only heart attack.  That, my friend, causes “family interrupted”.  At first we groped around in grief and anguish.  Heart wrenching events followed, a miscarriage, a DUI, addiction, you name it, we suffered it.  Somewhere in that time we began to return to us.  We talked constantly, consistently, over and over again.  We began to heal.  We did not “try” to heal, we just proceeded, agonizingly sometimes, joyously sometimes, yet always.  I don’t know how it happened but we became closer and more intimate.  My daughters even seemed enmeshed.  We celebrate life events together, my granddaughter Cadence turned 6 and most of her aunts and uncles were there to escort her into her new beginning: Elementary school.  Such things are not questioned here – of course we celebrate together, of course we are gravely interested in all of the goings on with each other.  Of course we presence ourselves for each other.

I asked Rhea if she wanted her siblings with her for the trip.  There was a choice between a Toyota with a tiny U-Haul or the Yukon.  The Yukon would include her siblings, the Toyota, probably not.  She chose the Yukon.  She wanted her sister with her (8months pregnant) and because of my bad back, Rhea insisted that her baby brother also come, else who would do the heavy lifting?  My oldest son even called and sang songs to me…he couldn’t come.

Rhea is my firstborn daughter, she was born after a 6 year gap, sons and then daughters.  My family adored her, she was the perfect infant.  She was and still is quite beautiful.  Back then, I had so much family, I had four parents, a husband and an extra gramma for my children.  They are all gone, all of my parents have passed away and my children’s father is now gone also.  

Now here is where childless adults begin laughing at me… My youngest child is 22 years old.  Why would I spend so much time and energy on them?  Why would I be driving my daughter to Virginia – why doesn’t she hop on a plane and go to her husband?  Rhea, my first born daughter, is moving to Virginia to be with her husband and so she must leave us.  She must leave her “Sissy Pants” Johanna Jr. who is pregnant.  She must leave her younger brother Travis Jr., the one who is always available to drive her, pick her up and run errands.  She must leave older brothers, nieces and nephews and all of the attendant celebrations.  And these three (Rhea, Jo and Travis) have been together constantly since October.  These three have clung to each other for 2 and 1/2 years now.  These three battle the inebriated widow of their father for their birth right.  My older children have so much more experience with independence and autonomy, they have built lives and pursued careers and education for more than a decade now.  They do not bother with the widow, they do not care.  The thing is my older children support their siblings but have managed to move on.

I have suffered through many endings and several deaths.  By far the most difficult deaths, being my mother and the father of my children.  There are no words for this kind of grief, it just is.  I recognize that endings must come.  I recognize that death is part of life and must be borne.  I recognize these things and yet the suffering continues.  Now I must suffer a good ending, a positive ending a good bye to a daughter, who because her father passed away had “life interrupted” and stayed with her family to take care of them for too long.  I am aware that I must say good-bye to her, but I do not wish to.  There is a terrible anxiety in my heart that if I do not watch over her something could happen to her.  If something happens to her how will I get to Virginia within an hour so that I can be with her?  How can I?

And what, what do you do, what do you say, when your child’s grief equals your own?  How do you manage all of that?

We had to go home, Johanna Jr. is uncomfortable, she is so heavy with child.  (We did have a Dr.’s note.)  It was difficult to leave so we did not until 1:30 in the afternoon.  Our drive to Virginia was a record breaking (for slowness) 17 hours.  I asked Jo and Travis if we could stop at a hotel.  Of course I was driving there and back…Why?

In one of those symbolic events that tell all, about the future, my two youngest kids, Johanna Jr. and Travis Jr. firmly told me no, we are not stopping at a motel.  So at 11:00pm when I definitely could not function any more, they put me in the back seat with a pillow and said “Mom, we’ll take it from here.”  I had to relinquish control, I had to give up driving, I just couldn’t take it anymore.  They are setting me free, one by one, the kids are setting me free.  They are telling me to quit doing everything, quit worrying, quit fussing.  They have a life to live and I am definitely moving from center stage to supporting cast.  There are many, many sweet good-byes on this road to freedom and certainly the trip is worth taking…but it all must end, how else would we get a new beginning?  Speaking of new beginnings, when is Jaxsun going to be here, Johanna Jr. is ready to burst?  That baby needs to come…