Last week we shipped off two of our sons to college. They've both got bright futures and were excited about going. One received a terrific scholarship and the other has a great employment record despite jobs being so difficult to find. Despite plenty of setbacks in their lives, they had navigated the hazards of youth and were moving on to the next step towards living their lives as men.
It was heartbreaking to see them move out.
You tell yourself that they're doing what they're supposed to, you tell yourself that it's a healthy thing, but that doesn't keep it from hurting. Every time I saw a little boy of any age this last weekend I remembered when mine was that age. Ow! We're in a period of mourning where you regret the loss of a phase of life. They'll be back for summers and vacations (maybe), but they've moved out for good for all intents and purposes.
We're all on very good terms, we text them both every day. One is close enough to come home for dinner from time to time and the other is close enough for us to drive up and see once in a while, but the bridge has been crossed and if they're successful, which we hope, they won't be coming back.
This is what we wanted. We worked and sacrificed for this. Now that it has come, parts of us wish it hadn't.