Monday, August 28, 2017

Open Heart Flame



Things were all mixed up yesterday. I was showered with birthday love yet had to say good-bye to my beloved son Henry who is beginning his freshman year in college. The busy weekend came to a close at a beautiful morning mass for several thousand freshmen students and parents in the school's gym, called The Kennel because the school's mascot is the bulldog. It's also Jesuit, not the bulldog, but the school.  I watched the line of priests file in behind the huge gold cross and felt a familiar annoyance that it's only men -- ok, more than annoyance --  yet I wondered why it's so difficult to shed Catholicism, its liturgy moving like syrup through my head, the words spilling out of my mouth from some dark recess. I've often wished there were a sacrament of Egress -- some formal marking of leaving the Church behind. I nearly fainted at one point during the mass. I was thinking too hard, I think (!), like I did as a girl in church on Sunday. I think it's from boredom -- the lassitude, the combination of priest drone, empty gesture and saint-fantasy. Or maybe it was my throbbing elbow, smashed accidentally by the seat when I stood up. The pain was obliterating. I saw spots in front of my eyes, felt a wave of nausea, told Henry I needed to sit while everyone else stood. I put my head in my hands, bent over my legs, closed my eyes. By the time the priest asked the students to stand in the aisles and us to lift our hands over them in a blessing, I was openly crying. 

I am overwhelmed.

It was always easy with Henry. All of it. It wasn't hard, ever, and I mean that, really. How lucky I was to raise him from shining baby and boy to young manhood. It's so hard to let him go.

My friend Doug said that missing someone is a good kind of pain, that it means the flame of love is burning, like a pilot light. We want that love on, a love that our sons and daughters will spread to new friends, new places and new experiences. 

To be open-hearted, to be free with tears and joy, is everything. 

I have everything.


18 comments:

  1. My heart aches for you at the same time I know you'll get used to the new way of things. When my daughter went to school I sobbed. And then suddenly it was just the new way of things and there was school breaks and summers. And then four years flew by. And she's back close to home now again but not really home like before. It is such a torn feeling wanting them to become the amazing independent individuals you raised them to be, to go out into the world and make it better for their being there. But you also want them to stay small. I am certain those love pangs that you feel in your heart, that come out of nowhere go on forever. I naively thought those pangs would stop but I have come to realize like an awakening that there is no time limit.

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  2. So poignant. I feel this post in my heart.

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  3. I am absolutely 100% sure most of the people there were annoyed at the absence of women. I went to catechism took first communion, blah blah blah. Not only does it piss me of that men are regarded as having a closer connection to God, it pisses the Quaker in me that says some people are closer to God than others. Where is the equality in that?

    But I digress.

    Your boy! Both my kids have left the nest. Are you wondering what happened to the 2 year old in Osh-Kosh overalls? When did he go from a little boy to a man with big old smelly man feet? The same feet you used to put in your mouth! But through it all, you raised a man that isn't going to go out in world and make it a better place. And that was the point all along. But man, it sure went fast, huh?

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  4. Damn autocorrect! I meant he *is* going to go out and make the world a better place. Sorry about that.

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  5. Oh my. I think the easiness makes for painful parting. It will transform. Maybe get easier. Take care.

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  6. I love your idea about a sacrament of Egress. Not Catholic myself, but friends to many ex-Catholics. It really does stay with people, no matter how much they now hate it.

    It's so damned hard to move through these big transitions with our kids. I feel for you, I do. You'll have great fun hearing all about his college adventures! Full steam ahead.

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  7. I have no words. I can't imagine how hard this transition must be. Your writing, as always, is simply beautiful. From the heart. Sending love.

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  8. Beautiful, the words and the faces. Best wishes to Henry. Best wishes to you. It will be o.k.!

    Best,
    Bonnie

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  9. It's got to be hard. But at the same time, how exciting, especially for Henry!

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  10. Do you know how beautiful all of you are? And Sophie too? Look at the eyes (which sustain you) and your own eyes and no, this has nothing to do with your boy leaving home but in a way it does. A part of you is out in this world now, but he is always yours as you are always his- this is the bond- even when the bond must necessarily grow to let him begin to make his own place in this world. There is no breaking of that because the bond is love and love just grows to fit. Does any of this make it one bit easier? No.
    But I am telling you the truth.

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  11. Beautiful. I feel all that you're feeling, and am sending you love.

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  12. I am sending my 2 oldest daughters off to college next year. Thank you for your words,I think
    you made it a little easier for me...

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  13. Oh, Dear Sweet Elizabeth, my heart aches for you.
    XXOO

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  14. Seven years ago, my daughter left for college in a tempest of independence. She is an Alpha female, acts quickly on decisions, and was eager to run her own life and get out from under house rules. I felt like my house was haunted by her spirit after she left because she makes everything dance. She has never spent even one vacation night in her room after she left for college! It was an adjustment. My son, Henrick, left for college this week too, but he is living at home and chose a local Community College. Happy to do a few chores, to check in, and live his life in community & quiet harmony. Same parents, two kids with different approaches to life.

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  15. As they grow up and leave it is always bittersweet with mixed conflicting emotions of Gladness and Sadness. You have such a Lovely Family.

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  16. Beautifully written post. It truly is hard for us Moms to let them stretch their wings and fly from the nest.

    Your friend Doug's thoughtful words, "...Missing someone is a good kind of pain, that it means the flame of love is burning, like a pilot light. We want that love on, a love that our sons and daughters will spread to new friends, new places, and new experiences", made me misty eyed. My son has been on my mind all day today and I am missing him. He's overseas in the Air Force. I am so glad I came across your post to read today.

    Susie D.

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  17. I will hold on to that "pilot light" notion, I think, for a long time. And, as you know, I don't believe in accidents, so the fact that Henry was so easy - is so easy - and he chose a school steeped in tradition that nearly prompted you to faint speaks volumes. I hope that the transition for both of you proves to be easier than you think and that you hold on to your traditions and pilot light. Sending love.

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  18. Sobbing. I know I've said it so many times before, but your sons give me so much hope for the future. They are the men the future needs.

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