Updated: July 30, 2019
Originally Published: August 18, 2012
Son:
After a night filled with goodbyes and tears shared with friends, I packed my belongings, ready to leave the suburbs behind for the bustling streets of New York City. Under the dim glow of a streetlamp, we exchanged hugs and made promises to stay in touch. I knew this marked the end of an era I once cherished deeply, but surprisingly, I felt no fear about that ending; my tears were the only acknowledgment of my sentiment.
Mom:
Before we headed out, I took one last look around his room to ensure nothing was left behind. Normally, finding anything in my youngest son’s tiny, cluttered space would be a challenge, but today it was surprisingly tidy—just a few dirty glasses and remnants of snacks scattered about. He had hoped our dog, Max, would stay with him one last night, but after saying goodbye to friends, he was too restless to sleep. To distract ourselves, we made a late-night trip to the 24-hour Walmart for something he needed, though I can’t recall what it was; we just needed to keep moving and avoid overthinking.
Son:
The next morning, standing in the doorway of my room filled with nine years of memories, I flicked off the light switch, hoping for a sense of closure but feeling mostly indifferent. Saying goodbye to Max was strange, but it wasn’t as difficult as I anticipated. I pondered why it was so easy to part with the people and things I held dear. As we drove to the airport, my mom kept chatting, trying to fill the silence.
Mom:
At the airport, he devoured a tuna salad sandwich—how he found one at 6 a.m. in a terminal astounds me. I made small talk, while my husband, who had wisely gone to bed early, cracked jokes with his trademark corny dad humor. We both tried to keep the mood light, but the reality of our youngest child leaving home weighed heavily on us.
Son:
We passed through security and boarded the plane. I noticed my dad’s quiet smile, contrasting with my mom’s animated chatter. I realized that silence can convey just as much as words, and in that moment, I felt the emotional weight of my parents preparing to say goodbye. I sensed their struggle as we landed and unloaded my belongings into the dorm, culminating in our farewell in the parking lot the next day.
Mom:
After unpacking, cleaning, and meeting my son’s roommate and their parents, it was finally time for my husband and me to leave. I had navigated this routine before with my older son, but this time was different—there was no family nearby to offer a warm meal or support. I was gearing up to do something no mother expects: walk away, or rather, fly away. How could I leave this boy, who had brought me immense joy, who I had nurtured while gradually letting him find his independence? I handed him a lucky coin I had saved for this moment and urged him to keep it close for when things got tough. Our eyes met, and I thought I saw a tear in his. He embraced me, then his father, and we shared a group hug. I told him I loved him and believed in him. I hope he truly heard me.
Son:
That’s when the emotional weight hit me. I hadn’t expected goodbye to feel so heavy, especially since I was excited for college. But it was tough. Looking back, saying farewell to Max, my room, and friends was harder than I realized. Then my parents were gone, just like that. Or maybe it was me who had left everything behind. Guilt washed over me—I was the one who had moved on, and it didn’t hit me until I turned my back and faced the campus.
Mom:
As we drove away, we stole a final glance at him walking toward campus—one last view of the boy he was, and a first look at the man he was becoming. A lifetime of love: I hope he understands it’s everlasting.
Son:
It took me a while, but I eventually realized that the reason the initial goodbye felt easy was that nothing is ever truly lost. My parents, my dog, my room, and my friends would always be in my heart and thoughts. Knowing they felt the same diminished the heaviness, and I stopped questioning the difficulty of it all.
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