I Was Warned Every Benchmark in My Sons’ Lives Was Just Another Goodbye

At the end of December, I said good-bye to my oldest son, Sean, his wife, Zee and their 15-month old daughter, Jali, waving as the cab pulled away from the curb, tears forming in my eyes.??I don’t know the next time I’ll see them. Sean and his family don’t get home much anymore, living in London as they do now.??I suppose that’s the problem with children: They grow up, leave home and live their own lives.

But, as the mother of four boys, I’ve learned sons begin to leave their mothers almost immediately. ???

After my first son, Sean was born, my oldest sister called to congratulate me, and then said, “The trouble with having boys is that every significant benchmark in?their life is just another goodbye.”??

I thought of her words when I walked Sean into all-day kindergarten, a hairline crack slowly making its way across my heart.

“Have a great day, bud,” I said as he ran in, giving me a brief wave without ever turning around.? To this day, he doesn’t know that?I sat in my car and cried for 30 minutes.

I recalled my sister’s words again when I dropped my second son at sleep away camp, helped my third son pack for a mission trip and watched my fourth son?walk across the stage at his fifth?grade graduation.

Over the course of?nine months, my sons’ lives were filled with significant milestones that took them further away from me in some way.?

I recalled her words again as?my oldest graduated from college and moved?to NYC, my second son?left to?study?in Europe; my third son?got his driver’s license and my youngest?came downstairs one morning and was?suddenly taller than me.??Just like my youngest?son’s jump in height, all of these benchmarks seemingly happened overnight.??

As much as I want them to explore the world, learn to drive and yes, grow taller than me, I would be lying if I didn’t confess that a tiny part of me really missed snuggling with them every night or hearing them say, like Tommy did when he was three, “I want to marry you when I grow up, Mom.”

I also know, in order to maintain a relationship with my sons as they leave home, I have to let them go and be hands-off—no demands on their time, no expectations of visits home, no messages left on their cell phones or texts that hint, even slightly, that I miss them or —gasp—need them.??Once they marry, it’s even more imperative I duct tape my mouth shut.???

Once, when I was having lunch with my friend, Kris, her phone kept ringing and she kept ignoring it.

“Do you need to get that?” I finally asked.

“Nah, it’s just the girls,” she said, referring to her two oldest daughters, sounding somewhat exasperated.??“They call All. The. Time.”?

"What do they want? Is it an emergency?" I asked. She laughed. "Of course not!"

Her daughters are grown and live on their own. She told me they want to tell her all about the minutia of their day. As we continued our lunch, I realized she wasn’t exaggerating, as her phone rang three or four more times.

I can’t even imagine.?But then again, if I’m honest,?I’m not sure I want to.

Whenever I meet a man whose siblings are all brothers, I ask, “Do you still love your mother?”?They always chuckle and answer, “Of course.”?(Their wives usually corroborate their maternal love).

Whenever I ask, “How often do you call her?” most admit, “Not often enough.”

By the end of this year, three of my four sons will be married, which means I am well into the season of my life when my boys call every so often to just “check in,” their wives—bless them!—encouraging them to call. I get it, having had to nudge their own father to call his mother.??It’s been that way since the beginning of time; it’s even mentioned in the?Bible and at most marriage ceremonies:?A husband will leave his mother and father and cleave to his wife.

My boys will never know how often I look at their pictures, scattered around my house and long to have them back in my nest, dropping their laundry on the floor, wrestling, bickering, laughing and asking me what’s for dinner.?The ghosts of their childhoods continuously haunt me, teasing a smile from my lips at every memory.? It’s my little secret.?

It’s not as though I want to go back or even have them living in my basement.??It’s just that the quickness with which they move from wanting to kiss you constantly and tell you everything, to not even calling, can give a mom whiplash.?

Just as nothing prepares you for being a mother in the first place, nothing prepares you for saying goodbye in tiny, spread-over-time, painful increments.?

So, on those rare occasions when my sons do call, I will regale them with tales of the robust, active, empty-nester life I am enjoying with their father, give them updates on my various writing projects and share with them the challenges of running a small business.??I am happy, busy and content, learning new things, traveling and as far as they’re concerned, not missing them much at all.?