The cure for anything is salt water -–sweat, tears, or the sea.” – Isak Dinesen
Saying Good-bye Tomorrow, my fourth daughter is moving away without my permission following the irritating habit of her two other sisters, one of which even decided to change countries. Although this may tell more about me, than them. I now only have one progeny left living in my city. She lives down the street and I have tied her to a post with a chain. My abandonment issues rear their ugly head yet again. (I once went to a support group for this, but I was the only one who showed up.) This defection is particularly traumatic given that my ‘bubble’ has been, and continues to be so small that if it were a room, a chess board would be too big. Feeling cracked, dented, and leaky, I stuff down the panic – another piece of my body gouged and hollowed. One would think I’d be used to good-byes by now, or that I’ve somehow figured out how to prepare for the letdown. After all, it’s been almost ten years since I’ve had a full time, live-in offspring, but distance is a fearsome factor.This is another moment, and there will be more, as I am at the age of losses.  Do these unaccountable losses ever get easier? Mothering is no second-rate ministry. It’s at the sharp edge of everything. This “letting go” is something we are called to do almost every day of our lives – ambition, ego, envy, energy, people, perfect health, mismatched socks – of a life that never seems to meet our expectations. The loss of my daughter to a warmer province than ours, is just another “little death”, a letting go. Some losses are heart-rendering, some sad, and some are just realizing that we don’t need to hang on to the sofa we bought when Trudeau was Prime Minister. The first one. We fight these losses tooth and nail, dragging self-pity behind us, insisting the world should be a certain way. That is our folly, having expectations and believing that we deserve something because we are kind, we shovel our sidewalk, we donate to the Food Bank, and we pay our taxes on time. We make deals with ourselves, keep talismans on our nightstand, and make red checkmarks on our calendars, in the hope that we will get a Go-Straight–to-Heaven card. Maybe we could point a finger at Jesus. He seemed to be able to pull off this goodness thing. For example, He took buckets of water from people who lived in the desert and turned them into wine. It probably seemed like a pretty good idea until everyone woke up in the morning with terrific hangovers. Nothing disappoints us more than our lofty expectations and thinking we deserve something. It’s silly to make ourself miserable, but at least we ought to reserve it for times when we have a really good reason. Discomfort isn’t bad, it’s just uncomfortable. We will always be called on to let go of the things, places and people we love – to do it with grace and maybe even some composure – when the time comes. And practice gratitude not only when our hands are full, but also when our heart is hurting, because I don’t think we can ever love too much. |
Thanks Karyn,
My oldest child (of five) is graduating from high school this year, and planning to move away to University. Thus begins the painful dismembering of the nest we’ve created these past 18years. A re-organizing downsizing process of sorts.
Anticipating this “loss” of one of the nestlings has helped me feel less attached to some of the junk in my house and I’ve been doing some corner cleaning (aka, nest polishing) as a distraction, so that’s a plus.
I know there’s much more pain ahead, with all the many more kids to leave me, but as mothers, this is what we signed up for, right? Growing them up?
This is the good kind of pain, (I keep telling myself), this nest is meant to be temporary.
And wherever all the birds end up, I’m going to fly to visit their nests one day!
(Ok enough with the metaphor)
Congratulations on your daughters success!
Tonia
She sure is a cutie 💕
I understand your reluctance to see her go…
You have done your job and must be so proud that the girls have followed the correct order of things …
For this experience and to get you through till tomorrow , may I suggest a nice full bodied red with some tangy cheese and olives.
Always love your posts Karen , but I really felt this one ❣️
Jeanette Rae
Okotoks
This made me tear up Karyn! What a beautiful sentiment to Courtney…and life ❤️ Sending you lots of love.
Kind Regards,
ANN STRANGES
feel for you Karyn. I bawled my eyes out when our Son left for college years ago.
We now live in sunny Kelowna BC and are just minutes away from our son & grandbabies – so it all worked out for the best!
If your daughter happened to move to BC, then we might meet up again over a few decorating ideas!
Bonnie.
Sending a big hug to you today. Karyn, I think this writing today was one of your best.
Sending you virtual hugs as you go through the pain, Karyn. Been there, done that, never easy. Thank God for Zoom.
Bill and Elspeth
Karen,
I’ll be sharing this with my wife as we have a daughter that moved to Australia. This has been very difficult for my wife to adjust to.
Thank you,
Joe Perri
Oh my heart
This was beautiful
Thank you
Read this just after Dominique left after sleepover and a delightful evening with myself and a girlfriend
we are so blessed
you now have another great place to visit
Pamela
Karyn
This is one of the most thoughtful and meaningful essays I’ve read in a very long time.
I hope it’s been cathartic to write and share your story.
You have such beautiful daughters – from the photo. Given your talents I bet they have some special talents too.
What a huge loss – to have another daughter leave the city.
When each of my kids moved out of our home I felt like the earth dropped out from under my feet or that the earth tilted and I was sliding off and kept falling. It took a couple of weeks or so to feel like I had a firm enough footing again in life to be steady on my feet. It was such a feeling of emptiness and pain. And they are still in the city, lucky me.
Loss is cumulative, for sure.
I think it’s very brave of you to tell your story the way you have.
I love your sense of humour.
I’m so sorry for your loss.
Sending you a big virtual hug!
Tannis