Maybe I Was Raising Them To Leave

It was 13 years ago that my youngest son asked me to meet him for dinner in downtown Denver, where he lived. I lived about 20 miles north, and although we were close and got together frequently, this particular invitation raised some suspicion in me. I eyed him closely as I sipped my wine, looking for clues as to what was to come, and sure enough, he began to lay out his plan to move to New York City. I was shocked, but not surprised. From a very young age, he had told me he wanted to experience life in a big city, and I never had a reason to doubt him.

He was only 25 years old at the time, and emotionally, I was unprepared. But this was the start of it. I was going to have to learn to live in a different place from my sons. He eventually moved from New York to Los Angeles, while my oldest son, although still in Colorado, moved his family to the mountains, hours away. And eventually, I retired to Arizona. Little by little, our lives spread out across the country, and this is where the story of our lives today begins.

People sometimes ask me, “Isn’t it hard being in a different state?” And of course, it is. As a mother, it is only natural that we want to keep our kids close. We happily celebrate every birthday with them while also feeling a sense of loss, knowing that each birthday brings them one step closer to becoming independent adults. We have loved and protected them since the day they came into this world, and it can feel lonely not to have them near and to face the realization that they no longer need us in the same way they once did.

But I also see the bright side. I take pride in knowing that I raised my sons to be strong and confident enough to follow their dreams, even when those dreams took them somewhere else. After all, isn’t that part of the real job of a parent—to love and support our kids until they are ready to stand on their own?

They will always need a parent’s love, interest, and support throughout their lives. But our role changes. We gradually let go, give them the freedom to build lives of their own, and learn to be there for them without always being needed. That may be one of the greatest measures of successful parenting—and one of the most heartbreaking.

Just as leaving my hometown 25 years ago created new opportunities for me, my sons have thrived in the places their lives have taken them.

Maybe I was raising my kids to leave all along.

The technology we have today helps bridge the miles with texting, FaceTime, and instant pictures. I feel fortunate that I can also drive or fly to visit them throughout the year. We still enjoy holidays and trips together, and in some ways, being apart makes those times more special. We can appreciate our time together in a way we might not if we lived just down the street.

Not being a part of my grandchildren’s day-to-day lives is especially difficult. I know that being intentional about our time together matters. I want to keep building memories with them and, just as importantly, make sure they know how much they are loved. I may miss some everyday moments, but I can make the moments we do have together count. They, too, will grow and begin to build their own lives, and we learn to let go again, understanding that, like it or not, this is the natural course of life.

Living apart isn’t always easy, but seeing my kids happy is what truly matters. We each do our part to stay connected. We spend as much time together as we can while also respecting each other’s separate time and lives. Somehow, this balance seems to work, and it keeps our family strong.

There are all kinds of families. Some live close to one another but still drift apart, while others maintain a deep connection despite the miles between them. I don’t take our closeness for granted, and I want that to be something we continue to hold on to.

As a mother, this is what I hope I have created.