Good-bye

My family got back yesterday from a weeklong family reunion at Disney World. My generous and sweet dad paid for everything and flew my extended family to one of his favorite places. The teenager had a blast hanging out with his older cousins. The toddler loved Mickey Mouse and "Big Bear", a statue of the large bear named Baloo from Jungle Book that grinned and loomed like, 100 feet high over our hotel pool. And Baby C got to meet my parents and sister's and brother's families, for whom she wriggled and smiled and charmed. My family was awesome. I miss them already.

We got home yesterday afternoon to gloomy skies and chilly temps in the 60s, a big departure from the searing Florida heat and sunshine. Holy crap is it hot in Florida. (That is my very obvious statement for the day). My mobile rang. It was my teenage son's dad. My teenager was set to move away for good this Saturday to his dad's in Iowa to work his summer job and *hopefully* go to college this fall. But a family member, his grandfather, was passing through, conveniently with a van, and offered to pick up T in a few hours. Was that OK? Dear god, I swallowed hard. But said OK, it was such a nice offer and would make things easier on everyone, logistically speaking.

I went downstairs to ask my hub to watch the kids so I could help him pack. I just started bawling and was choking, trying to ask my husband this. He thought somebody died. I've been anticipating this day for years -- why on earth was I falling apart? Anyway, he kept the kiddies busy while I went upstairs to help the teenager. Holy crap. The world will always need moms, including teenagers, thank goodness. His room was a total pigsty and that kid can't pack a suitcase to save his life. (I'm a military kid -- you learn how to pack your stuff!)

We worked side-by-side for 90 minutes or so sorting the pieces of his life. We found old toys. An old yellow blankie he begged me to buy him at Target years ago. His crucifixes from his first communion and confirmation. Old homework papers. Clothes that haven't fit in years. Clothes that hadn't been washed in years. (Ewww! Even an old jock strap.) A good deal of my best bath towels. (So that's where they've been going). Old school photos and little league pictures. We packed and packed, and I cleaned as I went. It just felt good to be able to do something for him, as my role in his life has diminished in recent years, I guess.

His grandfather arrived and the van was loaded. We stood there -- my husband, the toddler and Baby C -- and thanked his sweet grandfather for coming and said our good-byes. I felt like someone took out a piece of my insides. It was sadder than I imagined. Sure, he'll come back for visits, etc. But even if he ever returns to Chicago, I won't be raising him anymore. It's a loss that is hard to put into words. I fell so hard in love with him the first time I held him after he was born in 1992 and have been in love with him since. I hope I've given him useful stuff to help him in his life.  I hope he felt loved. I hope he knows how much I love him.

Today life has to go on. I'm washing his bedding and will get his room looking nice and clean. It will just make me feel a little better. I found out yesterday my unemployment pay ran out, awesome, so I get to figure out what in the hell I'm going to do. (Updated: it was a glitch with the state! I'm still eligible for the dole. Whew.) The toddler keeps asking for the teenager this morning. I think it's going to be a bit before we all adjust here.