After an extended winter break, I said goodbye to my three college-aged sons. I hugged each of them tightly, told them I loved them, and added my usual reminder to “make good decisions.”
But this goodbye felt different. There were no tears or looming dread as they packed the car. Instead, I shut the garage door, went back into the kitchen, brewed some tea, and started sorting the mail.
Instead of tears, a sense of peace overcame me
My tears were replaced with a sigh—a mix of mild annoyance and an unexpected sense of peace. One of my sons even called as he pulled out of the driveway to ask why I hadn’t stood on the front porch clutching our ten-year-old black lab with tears steadily rolling down my cheeks, watching until the taillights disappeared. That had been my ritual for the past few years, each goodbye signaling that this house was becoming less and less their home.
This quieter goodbye didn’t come out of nowhere. For weeks, I had been shown, mostly through their actions, that I was no longer their priority. As much as I hate to admit it, there were moments when I felt like I was begging for time and then thanking them when they gave us any sliver of it.
I certainly know better than to look to social media for normalcy. I often tell clients, comparison is the thief of joy.
I found myself begging to be included in my teens’ plans
And yet, there I was, scrolling and feeling disappointed that our reality didn’t resemble the matching-pajama families watching movies by the fire. We didn’t even manage to gather all five of us long enough to take the obligatory family photo for the holiday card. Instead, I found myself asking—too often—to be let in on their plans with friends, girlfriends, and work, hoping to carve out moments of “family time.”
Intellectually, I understand this stage. As a therapist and a parent, I know that pulling away is developmentally healthy. They are building lives independent of us, forming identities that aren’t rooted in being someone’s child. Emotionally, though, it still hurt to feel like we were getting the bare minimum of their time and effort.
Rather than defaulting to my old habits, passive comments, heavy sighs when they retreat to their rooms, I changed my behavior and thoughts. I focused on what I could control: living my life without the constant identity and security blanket of being a Mom.
For years I yearned for just one quiet moment
Still, I couldn’t ignore the irony. For years, when the house was loud and chaotic and I was breaking up fights and driving carpools, I longed for just a moment to myself. I didn’t realize how abruptly that moment would arrive or that it would come with moments of deep sadness.
This season of life feels different from anything I’ve known. I miss parts of what was, but I’m also grateful for what is; long walks, new hobbies, an uninterrupted glass of really good wine and time to focus on my marriage and myself.
From manager to coach: Redefining your role as a parent
When my thoughts drifted toward feeling disposable in the boys’ lives, I reminded myself that this wasn’t about being unneeded, it was about transitioning from manager to coach, from decision-maker to sounding board. That shift is hard, especially for parents who spent over two decades organizing their children’s lives. Hard, yes but also, surprisingly freeing.
The night they all left, my husband and I went out to dinner at a restaurant our kids would never have chosen, I raised my glass and toasted our sons, their full lives and then to us. I told him I was looking forward to whatever came next for the two of us.
For me, what came next was taking small but intentional steps back, and stopped chasing responses and explaining myself.
I send one simple text to my sons each week with no expectation
I decided to send one simple text each week with no expectations, just a reminder that I’m here and that I love them. Then I put my phone down, there is no watching for typing bubbles and no waves of disappointment if I was left to read.
Three weeks in, my emotions are more predictable and healthier. I am confident I’m still needed in their lives. After all, I got a text today asking how to get a blood stain out of a shirt. I answered without asking how it got there and went back to my tea.
More Great Reading:
The 10 Things I Wish I’d Known Before My Kids Left for College
