There was a time when we made sure they were never too cold or too hot, swaddling them in blankets, putting them in a cold bath to take a fever down. More than anything, we wanted them comfortable and happy, clean and dry with their bellies full. Stimulated, free to grow and fail but still safe, protected. We wanted them to believe that the world is a good place to be, that they were loved, loved supremely.
And this was something we could do. It really wasn't that difficult. In fact, the tending to their needs was its own reward. Success was tangible, fairly immediate. They burped. They smiled. They gained weight, crawled, walked, talked. They loved us like mad. No, the job was never done. It could be boring and tiring, but the goals and the outcomes were mostly in our hands. At first.
Then they grew up and moved away. They still needed to eat, take their medicine, get their rest, have their minds stimulated, feel loved, behave properly, do all the things that make for health and wholeness. But it was no longer our job; it was not really any of our business. And we could no longer "make it all better."
But I can't stop wanting to. I can't stop my mind from thinking about them - worrying, wondering, guessing, forecasting. As parents, our job is over, but our hearts don't know it.
I don't think they ever will.
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3 comments:
As we are counting down the days before Taylor leaves for basic training I find myself teary.......a lot.
I disagree Terry. You never stop being parents. No matter how old they get, they still need someone to worry, wonder and guess what they are doing. They will never stop calling to ask for advice; to tell you what they have accomplished; to comfort them until you are no longer there to do it. I still wish I could share, ask advice and amaze my mother.
Well, I know that your mom would be amazed. I don't know how things work where she is, but if she gets to see us down here I know she's very proud.
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