Updated: July 30, 2023
Originally Published: Aug. 18, 2012
Son:
I had crammed all my clothes and cherished memories into boxes, having shed tears with friends just the night before. Underneath a flickering streetlamp, I stood in the familiar yet confining maze of our suburban neighborhood, itching to escape to New York City. There were heartfelt hugs and promises to stay in touch. I understood this was the close of a cherished chapter, yet I didn’t dread it. Those tears were the only nostalgia I allowed myself.
Mom:
As I took one last stroll through his room to ensure he hadn’t forgotten anything, I felt a twinge of anxiety. He had promised he’d handle it, but some mom instincts are hard to shake. Normally, finding anything in my youngest son’s tiny room was a challenge—not due to its size, but because it often resembled a disaster zone. Today, however, it was mostly tidy. Aside from the usual stray snack wrappers and a few dirty dishes, the only thing missing was our dog, Benny. He’d hoped Benny would stay with him for one last night, but after saying goodbye to his friends, sleep was the last thing on his mind. To distract ourselves, we decided to make a late-night run to the 24-hour Walmart for some last-minute essentials. I can’t recall what we got; it hardly mattered. We were in motion, and that kept overthinking at bay.
Son:
The following morning, standing in the doorway of my room of nine years, I flipped the light switch and scanned the space, hoping for some closure. But mostly, I felt nothing. Saying goodbye to Benny was strange—he had been by my side since I was five—but it didn’t hit me as hard as I thought it would. I wondered why. My parents and I made our way to the airport, my mom chatting away the entire drive.
Mom:
At the airport, he opted for breakfast: a tuna salad sandwich. Seriously, how did he find the only tuna salad sandwich at 6 a.m.? I made light conversation while my husband, who had wisely turned in early, cracked some of his classic dad jokes—those sweet, corny quips that make you both laugh and roll your eyes. We were both trying to keep spirits high, but it was hard. Nick was our last child at home. Who were we kidding? Our hearts were heavy.
Son:
We made it through security and boarded the plane. I was attuned to my dad’s quiet smile as much as my mom’s animated chatter. I realized that silence can convey as much as words, sometimes even saying the same thing. I could sense my parents’ struggle as they prepared to say farewell to their youngest son. I felt it as we landed and unloaded all my things into my dorm, and again when we said goodbye in the parking lot the next day.
Mom:
After all the packing, unpacking, scrubbing, organizing, and meeting my son’s roommate and their parents, it was finally time for my husband and me to leave. I was somewhat experienced with this routine, having helped my older son settle into college twice before. But this time was different; my mother and brother lived close enough to visit my oldest whenever he needed a home-cooked meal. This time, there was no family nearby, no one to say, “Come by for dinner.” I was preparing to do what no new mother thinks she’ll ever have to do: walk away…or rather, fly away. How could I leave this boy who had filled my life with joy, whom I had nurtured a little less each year as he transitioned to independence, but whom I loved more than I could ever express? I handed him a special coin with a lucky clover engraved on it, telling him to keep it close and to take it out when things felt tough. That’s when our eyes locked, and I could finally see a glimmer in his. Or was it a tear? I wasn’t sure until he wrapped me in a hug, then his dad, followed by a group hug. I told him I loved him and believed in him. I hoped he truly heard me, but I wasn’t entirely certain.
Son:
Only then did the weight of goodbye hit me. I hadn’t expected it to be so difficult, especially since I was excited about school. But it was hard. Looking back, it had actually been tough to part with Benny, my room, and my friends too. And then my parents were gone. Just like that. Or maybe it was me who had left. I felt a pang of guilt. I was the one who had dashed off, leaving everyone and everything behind, and I didn’t fully grasp the weight of that until, with my back turned and feet heading toward campus, I heard them drive away.
Mom:
As we drove off, I caught one last glimpse of him walking toward campus—a bittersweet farewell to the boy he was and a first look at the man he was destined to become. A lifetime of love: I hope he knows it’s forever and always.
Son:
It took me a while, but I eventually realized that the reason saying goodbye hadn’t been overwhelming at first was that nothing is ever truly gone. My parents, Benny, my room, and my friends will always remain in my thoughts and heart. And if I felt that way, I knew they did too. Suddenly, saying goodbye didn’t seem so daunting anymore, and I stopped questioning why it had been hard.
This article was originally published on Aug. 18, 2012.
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Summary: This heartfelt reflection between a mother and her son captures the bittersweet moments surrounding a college departure. As they navigate the emotional terrain of goodbyes, they share insights on love, change, and the enduring connections that remain despite physical distance.