My 17-year-old son, Zane, is in Nashville now going through the steps he needs to to get into the early entry program for the Marines. He won’t actually leave for boot-camp until next July or August. You’d think the way I’ve been dragging about all teary eyed and sad that he had already left home to venture out into the big bad world all alone. I suppose I’m practicing my grief that I know I’ll be experiencing next summer. I just don’t know how to do this thing called “letting go.” I know that we are supposed to cut those apron strings and be proud and all, but I never spent too much time on how I would do this with some sort of gracefulness. My heart is aching and there just isn’t anything that will make me feel good about one of my babies leaving home soon. Not one thing…
I suppose the only thing I know to do is to enjoy every little moment I have with all my children. I find myself soaking up the time I have with Zane just a bit more knowing that he wants to join the Marines next summer. He’s grown to be such a wonderful young man and I’m just now really getting to understand who he is and wants to be. I’ve grown closer to him and just cannot imagine this house without his lively presence. I feel it when one of my children are not home; an empty spot like a hole in my heart. So, if this is the way I feel when one of them is out-of-town for a bit, what will I do when they move out? I know…I’m ridiculously pitiful.
Me too. Boo hoo. Sorry Darian but I’m praying that God will not allow you to jump headlong off this cliff at such a young age. Maybe when you get 25 and still want this I will be ok with it but not now.