Son:
The previous night, I had packed up my belongings, reminiscing with friends while tears fell. We stood beneath a streetlamp in the sprawling suburb that I was eager to leave behind for the vibrancy of New York City. There were heartfelt hugs and promises to stay connected. I recognized that this marked the end of a cherished chapter in my life, yet I felt no fear about that conclusion. The tears I shed were the extent of my sentimentality.
Mom:
I took one last stroll through his now-empty bedroom, ensuring he hadn’t forgotten anything. He had promised to check, but some maternal instincts are hard to shake. Typically, locating any item in my youngest son’s room was a daunting task, not due to its size — it was the smallest in our home — but because it often looked like a tornado had struck, with clothes and books scattered everywhere. However, as we prepared to drive him 1,500 miles to college, the room was surprisingly tidy. Only the usual remnants of his life remained: dirty glasses, snack wrappers, and the dog’s bed — without the dog, of course. He had wanted Benji to stay with him one last night, but after a brief goodbye with friends, he hardly slept. To keep our minds off things, we took an impromptu drive to a 24-hour Walmart at 1 a.m. for something he needed. I can’t recall what it was; it didn’t matter. The act of moving kept us from overthinking.
Son:
The following morning, I stood at my bedroom door, finger hovering over the light switch, scanning my space of nine formative years, hoping for a sense of closure. Instead, I felt nothing. Turning off the light, I bid farewell to my dog — a companion since I was five — and surprisingly found it easy to say goodbye to the people and possessions I had held dear. I pondered why that was. My parents and I drove to the airport, with my mom chattering away.
Mom:
At the airport, he chose a tuna salad sandwich for breakfast. How did he manage to find that at 6 a.m.? I made idle conversation while my husband, who had wisely gone to bed early, shared light-hearted jokes that elicited both laughter and eye-rolls. We were both trying to keep the mood upbeat, but the reality was that Nick was our last child at home. We were feeling the weight of this transition.
Son:
We navigated through security and boarded the plane, aware of my dad’s quiet smile and my mom’s enthusiastic chatter. I realized that silence can convey just as much as words, often communicating the same sentiments. The difficulty my parents faced in preparing for my departure was palpable. I felt it again as we unloaded my belongings into the dorm and as we said our goodbyes in the parking lot the following day.
Mom:
After the packing, unpacking, and meeting my son’s roommate and their parents, it was finally time for my husband and me to leave. Having gone through this process with our oldest son twice before, I thought I was prepared. However, this time, there would be no family nearby, no one to tell him, “Come for dinner.” I was getting ready to do something no new mother envisions: walking away… flying away, to be precise. How could I leave this boy who had brought me so much happiness? I handed him a coin I’d saved for this moment — one with a lucky clover — urging him to keep it close for days when things didn’t go his way. Our eyes met, and I noticed a glimmer in his. Was it a tear? I wasn’t sure until he enveloped me in a hug, then his father, and finally, a group hug. I told him I loved him and believed in him. I hope he heard me.
Son:
It was at that moment I truly felt the weight of goodbye. I hadn’t anticipated it being difficult because I was excited for school. Yet, it was hard. In retrospect, saying farewell to my dog, my room, and my friends had also been challenging. And then, my parents were gone. Just like that. Or maybe it was I who had left them behind. A sense of guilt washed over me; I was the one moving forward, leaving everyone and everything in my wake. I didn’t fully grasp the gravity of it until I turned my back and faced campus, hearing their car drive away.
Mom:
As we drove away, we caught a last glimpse of the boy he once was and the first sight of the man he was becoming. A lifetime of love: I hope he understands it’s everlasting.
Son:
Eventually, I came to realize that the reason I didn’t feel the weight of the goodbye at first was because nothing is ever truly gone. My parents, my dog, my room, and my friends will always reside in my heart and thoughts. Knowing that they felt the same way made it easier.
In summary, the transition to college often brings mixed emotions for both parents and children. It marks a significant change in their lives, yet the bonds of love and cherished memories remain intact, providing comfort in the face of separation.
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