I wish every single vacation trip had been like this. All the kids laughing, sharing, joking around – we were in “this” together. On this trip, no holds barred.
You need to stop for the 10th time along the way to go to the bathroom? Of course!
You want another bag of chips? Sure.
(Lisa Mozloom)
Goofy family photos take on a new light now – mostly they make us laugh, but there’s now a hole in our hearts to which we’ll have to grow accustomed.
Dinner? Go ahead … order an appetizer and dessert! This is a celebration. A night at a fun Airbnb, then a hotel, then a new town to explore. It kept our minds busy, as did the campus introductions.
For this trip was one we’d never made before – we were dropping our firstborn off at college.
We attended the parents’ dinner with our son, then left him for the night only to see him the next day for the campus tour. The newness of everything, the constant moving, kept our minds busy.
My husband and I kept checking in on each other. After all, the week prior had been a roller coaster of unexpected breakdowns. Our eldest child, our son, was leaving for college. It hit us in waves. So excited for him to pursue a dream. So broken that a part of us would be missing.
We had a nice lunch – continued our fun.
Wait … before we go back, “Doesn’t someone want coffee?”
And “Let’s pop into this shop, shall we?”
Finally, it was time for him to report for duty and we headed to the barracks. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I felt very good. Strong. This is the time. The is the moment he is waiting for. To be free of our nagging, of the chore list on the fridge, of hearing me say, “You left my car on ‘E’ dude? Come on!”
(Thom Mozloom)
A college goodbye touches the whole family. Here our son says farewell to Georgia, who was depressed for a week after he’d left – she knew even then that this was no normal goodbye.
He didn’t have to hear it and I didn’t have to say it. But then as we approached the dorm, I looked to my right and in the distance saw a father consoling his young daughter as she wept in his arms.
Oh no, I thought! I’m not OK. I felt the lump in my throat. This is real and everyone around us was feeling it, too.
It’s time for the goodbye. Well, not goodbye, but see you later – much later. And not in our home, not on our watch, not by our rules, but yours. Not a kid, but a man.
It’s different now. The end point of day-to-day parenting is here. Why does that hurt so much?
And now, how to fill the hole that 18 years of living with someone creates – 6,570 days we pressed into him. Praying for wisdom to lead well, to teach, to experience life. If I could just add a day for every time we failed in this parenting journey.
The last look around his barracks. I see the energy bars I bought him: “THINK” they say. Ha! I hope those help. I see his new desk lamp squished under his bunk bed. The brownish-yellow walls are depressing to me. He needs some color in here.
It’s time for a final goodbye. He’s got to be in formation at 1:45 p.m. and the clock is ticking.
We all hug. We all cry.
He puts on his shoes to walk us out and as we get to the top of the stairs his cadet group, running up the stairs, grabs him – “Come on!” – and off he goes. I don’t even remember seeing him jump in line, he was just … gone.
Off we went.
To the car.
To the road.
Back home – just the four of us.
When wearing her work hat, Lisa Mozloom is a media and presentation training coach and PR practitioner at The M Network, but at home she is a woman passionate about raising three teens, loving her husband, and finding ways to extend hospitality and hope to those around her.