Last week, my eldest child, Jamie, packed up his soccer gear, worn-out sneakers, and shiny new laptop, setting off for college. The 18 years leading up to this moment have flown by in the blink of an eye. While the reality of sending my first child off into the world has taken me by surprise, witnessing his steps toward independence is a familiar journey for me. I cherished each milestone—his first words, his initial steps, and that momentous ride on the kindergarten bus. Little did I realize how challenging it would be to create distance between us until the day Jamie learned to ride a bike.
He wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about cycling, which led to countless laps around the neighborhood with me running alongside, gripping the back of his seat while he cried, “Don’t let go!” The task had become so daunting that I enlisted my sister’s help during a beach vacation. With her experience of teaching three kids to ride, she was confident the flat terrain would help Jamie overcome his fears. She was right, but he remained cautious.
When we returned home, I realized he had regressed. After some tears and more running alongside him, I repeated the familiar phrase, “Don’t let go!” Eventually, he found his rhythm. As he rode in cautious circles around me, exclaiming, “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” I stood there, hands on my hips, panting and relieved. I thought, Good thing you’ve got it, because I was losing steam. But pride welled up inside me as I watched him confront his fears.
The next day, we ventured out again, and I could see his determination. After some time, he wanted to explore the neighborhood, and I happily agreed, excited to see him take a chance. However, we soon found ourselves on a steep side street. I hesitated, asking, “Are you sure about this route?”
“Mom! I got this!” he replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice. With that, he climbed the hill and began his descent. In an instant, he was out of reach. I gasped, instinctively clenching my fists to my chest and holding my breath as I watched.
At that moment, it struck me. This is what parenting is all about. Standing at the top of that hill, I realized the next decade would involve watching my children grow smaller in the distance. I had to trust—trust in my parenting, in my children, and perhaps even in grace itself. So I let him go, accepting the helplessness that accompanied it, while trusting Jamie to navigate his own path.
When he reached the bottom, he halted in a sunny patch, turned, and raised his fist triumphantly in the air. I cheered, grateful he was far enough away not to notice the sigh of relief that escaped me. But no sooner had I settled than he wanted to ride again and again. This taught me a valuable lesson: letting go is intimidating at first, but with time, you acclimate to it.
Since that day, there have been numerous other daunting steps toward independence: allowing him to stay home alone, walk across a busy road to the pool, and eventually drive. I want to think I’ve improved at letting go, but life keeps raising the stakes.
As we approached his high school graduation last spring, I felt myself preparing for this transition. When he grabbed his dad’s packed lunch and walked out the door that final week, I suddenly saw him as far too grown-up for that. I envisioned him dining with friends in a college cafeteria or cooking instant noodles in his dorm, leaving behind his father’s sandwiches.
And now that moment has come. After just a week at school, the only message I’ve received from Jamie is a brief text: “College life” accompanied by a photo of his microwavable macaroni and cheese. Clearly, he’s not missing Dad’s ham sandwiches.
I hope college becomes his ultimate solo journey—one that I can’t run beside him during. Much like that day in our cul de sac, I’m worn out from the effort, yet his departure is still bittersweet and frightening. I will miss deciphering his morning grumbling and sharing family dinners. I’ll worry about his academics and safety during parties. Yet, I must trust that when his front tire wobbles, he can maintain his balance. When he does, I know we’ll celebrate together, him raising his fist in the air while I cheer from my vantage point atop the hill.
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In summary, the journey of letting go as a parent is filled with challenges and triumphs. Each step away from the familiar brings both fear and pride, as we learn to trust in our children’s abilities while navigating their independence from the top of our own hills.