An Apology to my Mother….

We dropped Danielle off at university yesterday and we will see her again for Christmas.   Our daughter and I are both the eldest of two boys and two girls with an eight-year gap from top to bottom.   Life’s been a bit hectic these past eighteen years and I have no idea how we got to this point so quickly.

I’ve sensed a purposeful distancing from me on her part these past few weeks.  I know that she had to do this in order to make the break from us.

She knows that I am not the least bit worried about her, even though she is on a different continent.  She is so ready for this phase of her life.  Yet, does she know how proud I am of her?  That I see the same sense of adventure in her that I once owned?  Does she know how desperately I want her to be happy?  Or, that I will never try to stop her from following her dreams, no matter how far away they take her from me?  Does she know how much her siblings look up to her?

It brings me back to twenty-eight years ago when I was dropped off at college.   My mother hugged me goodbye as she cried quietly.  I was a bit impatient as I knew that on the other side of her embrace were my new adventures.   That evening my roommate was waiting for me to go to a freshman social.  I told my mom not to worry, I smiled and I turned and walked away.

History does repeat itself.  We took Danielle to Tesco’s to buy some snacks for her room.  Her roommate was waiting for her so they could head out to a social event in their hall of residence.  She hugged her dad and then gave me a big hug as I was quietly crying.   She looked me straight in the eye and told me she would be fine.  She smiled and waved and I watched her walk confidently into her building.  Did she know that as she was walking a chunk of my heart leapt onto her shoulder, ready to stay and watch over her forever?  Probably not.

My mother must have felt all of these things all those years ago and for that, I have to say,  “I’m sorry mom, I didn’t know.”    I’m just grateful that I finally know now. 

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