My 24-year-old daughter (no longer a child) was home for
nearly two weeks from her graduate program where she is earning her Master’s
Degree – a rare visit from a busy young woman.
We don’t often get to spend ‘familiar’ time with her anymore – you know,
the regular ‘sitting around doing nothing time’ that brings that easy comfort
to all of us. Mindless and endless
watching of silly movies, television shows, and just sitting quietly with each
other hearkens back to days gone by. The
seats in the family room have changed a little – and so have the three of us,
but feelings haven’t. They are familiar
and reassuring. These rare and waning
days are soon to be replaced with other ventures, another life – for her and
for us.
This Christmas she brought home a friend – for the first
time – and he spent the most intimate of family moments with us. I am not sure he fully comprehended the gift
he received in this overture from our daughter.
She is very private. As a child
she rarely invited friends into our home.
Confused by this, one day I asked her why. She told me that this was her
sanctuary and that she didn’t want other people in it unless she felt certain
they were worthy of entering. I found
that fascinating. She is so private and
so cautious with her ‘self.’ This year,
however, she chose to let him
in. I was really okay with that. He is lovely.
I also was surprised at the emotions I experienced with him here.
She was completely relaxed and utterly at peace at home with
her friend here. And because she was
comfortable, so was I. His visit was
short – only two days - and after he left, we returned to our familiar old
routine and enjoyed the rest of our time together. There was contentment about the visit that I
couldn’t explain. It felt right even
though having someone new in your family traditions could be awkward. But he seemed to fit right in. I am not sure what will become of their
relationship but what I could detect was a mature respect between them and as
the parent of a daughter that is certainly a welcome feeling. This young man respected my daughter enough
to spend this holiday with her family, one that he does not celebrate; his
family is from a country far away. Having
him as a guest was a surprisingly warm experience.
There is always a period of adjustment for all of us when
our daughter comes home. I have observed
that over these visits we tend to cycle through predictable and familiar
behaviors. There is the initial
‘examination’ period – when she first arrives home – and her father and I do a
mild inquisition of her current status; financially, educationally, and
futuristically. After all – something
does happen after this. Then she promptly examines the house to see if
anything has changed. She does this by
going from room to room and even sitting on various pieces of furniture. Dormitory and apartment living has enriched
her appreciation for space. Within
a few days we experience the ‘mild annoyance’ period – where we all have to
readjust to this other adult abruptly present (and messy) in an otherwise
organized space. For a short period –
perhaps a day or two – we get on each others’ nerves. She is thinking about all that she wants to
accomplish over the break, that she’s inconvenienced a bit, and we are thinking
about how to stay out of each others’ way!
And finally, there is the ‘return to center’ where she is looking
forward to leaving, and we are looking forward to returning our space to its
original organized form – even though we hate for her to leave. There is trepidation at this point; we worry
about her travel and she begins to worry about all that she didn’t accomplish
and has to do upon her return. It’s all
very predictable.
But today I broke the rule.
I cried. I cried right as she was leaving. I hate when I do that. Somehow I had always managed to keep it together
over these years – giving final advice, acting like a mom seemed a way for me
to keep the tears at bay. But today, it
was just too much effort. I think the
melancholy finally moved in and was too much to push away.
This holiday was particularly hard. So many changes…I had just retired, my Dad
died in October. It was so different –
sad in so many ways. It’s hard when your
last parent dies. And I relived losing
my mom too. I knew this holiday would be
unlike any other, and difficult, and I thought I had weathered it fairly well –
until my daughter started packing the car.
There is always this overwhelming sense of loss when she leaves. It’s so empty, quiet. She’s here for such a short time, and then,
with a flourish, she’s gone. Where did
the years go? You blink…and they are
over.
Change is hard for families yet it is inevitable. Kids grow up.
They move away. They make lives
of their own. You just can’t share in it
all. The cycle continues. If we are
blessed (and I most certainly have been) we get to follow in the order of things
– as we expect them to be. It’s in the
change process that we have to appreciate what our relationships mean, how
important we are to each other, and to act in ways that honor those
relationships. Accepting change takes time
– and effort. Seeing the positives
requires a state of mind that protects you from being ensnared in the sadness
of loss and engulfed in rivers of grief.
Contentment is an attitude. Being
thankful is grace. Being able to
appreciate all the moments is a precious gift.
