Maple Ridge Barndo

2013 was the year our first child left for college. We had spent the summer shopping for all the things he needed to move into the dorm, things I cared more about than he did. We had done the summer preview and heard all the speeches from the parent’s association, faculty, and even the president. The speeches where they gently caution that once your child becomes their student, you are no longer in the loop. We were as prepared as we could be. We were excited for him while simultaneously suppressing a growing sense of dread.

Move in day came. We set up the dorm room. We took pictures. The last thing to do was attend a “send-off” in the big event center on campus. We filed in, completely unaware that we were about to hear speeches that were the emotional equivalent of ripping off a parental band-aid. Thirty seconds into the closing prayer and teetering on the absolute cliff edge of my stoicism, I hear a sound from my left. His two sisters, ages sixteen and fourteen, were crying. We filed out to the courtyard for a final hug and goodbye with a man child who was super excited and ready for us to go.

The move had taken two cars, so my husband and I drove home separately. The girls went with me which in hindsight was probably not the best choice. They fell completely apart, sobbing for over half of the hour long drive home. Their tears broke the dam that was already struggling to hold back my own tears. Eventually we were able to laugh at ourselves, especially when I told them I didn’t think they even liked him that much.

When we arrived at home, my real struggle began. There was an emptiness in the house that ripped my heart out. All summer he had burst through the door full of life and energy and funny stories about work. Even though I had anticipated this moment all summer long, I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around his absence. I’m really not overly emotional or prone to crying, but I worked so hard to hold everything in the muscles in my neck and throat became one big spasm. I turned to my husband when we were preparing dinner and said, “I think I’m having a heart attack.” He gently assured me I was not.

We dropped our son off on a Friday. We didn’t hear a peep from him until Sunday evening. When he called I thought, “Oh, he finally misses us a little.” Not the case. He just needed to ask me if we had packed a certain shirt of his because he was wanting it and couldn’t find it.

The next college send-off came two years later. Move-in day with our daughter was a completely different experience.