I no longer have children. I have adult children. Many women are afraid of this happening to them, and when it does, they go down deep into sadness for a while. I can relate. I remember when I dropped my youngest child off at her dorm, at a college about 100 miles north of our home. Her sister had been gone for a couple of years by then. While we unpacked the car and loaded up her dorm room with clothes and posters and books, I was cheerful, upbeat, made jokes and laughed at them myself. Then I waved a cheery goodbye, got in the car and drove off the campus and onto the freeway, I was on the on-ramp when tears began pouring down my face. I cried the entire 100-mile trip home – and I had no Kleenex with me!

My crying fit was cathartic and the right thing to do, although I don't recommend crying and driving at the same time.  If you are flying home, crying is a lot safer. But always remember to bring Kleenex.

Letting go is such a bitch. And yet that seems to be what parenthood is all about. Now I am watching my daughters learn this lesson as they take their baby steps in letting go of their little ones. Their children are still only toddlers, and yet they are already missing the sweetness and relative peace of babyhood.

And yet … having adult children is such an incredible gift of grace. I still miss the little girls they were sometimes, but oh how I relish knowing the fine women they became.  And besides, now I have my grandchildren to giggle with. 

My advice for those in a letting go stage is to go ahead and grieve awhile for the times that have now ended, but don't get stuck there or you'll miss the amazing times that are coming.

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