My youngest son’s dorm room was set up and he and I had figured out how to get his PS4 hooked up to the wifi. His mom had done a fabulous job making a generic space feel like home. My son then pointed at the radar app on his phone. He noted that a particularly nasty severe thunderstorm was forming nearby and said that we would have to leave if we wanted to the car before it hit. While I was impressed at his forecasting ability (he will study meteorology after all), I wasn’t ready to leave. Neither was his mother.
Thunder rumbled.
A storm WAS coming. We gave long hugs and said our goodbyes. Lightning crackled overhead as we dashed across the parking lot. As we ran, I thought about all he had accomplished to make it to this moment. Memories swirled like the wind.
While rain hadn’t started falling yet, there was moisture on our cheeks.
The day started out with dark clouds. I woke up really cranky. I mean, “scream at the puppy” angry. Overuse had caused my back to REALLY hurt. I was exhausted from lots of travel. And I felt anxiety about the move-in process. Amy told me to dial back my grouchiness — it was my son’s big day after all. She wasn’t wrong of course; I quickly pulled my head out of my rear and realized why I was upset And it wasn’t pain, exhaustion or anxiety.
I was sad.
Reality was crashing down around me. It was over. When people say, “the days are long but the years are short” about raising children, they aren’t lying. I miss my boys.
I then thought about how much I love them as adults. The clouds parted and I felt a ray of sunshine come through. Having children gave me a better understanding of the concept of God’s unconditional love of His children.
I love who they have become as men. Unconditionally.
As we drove, heavy rain made it like we were driving through a car wash. Then as suddenly as it hit, it stopped. As we drove out of the storm, the sun painted the horizon red. I took it as a sign of love overcoming sadness.
I put on a song that I used play to comfort our oldest son when he was a baby. And then we drove toward our empty nest.
