Just Let It Go

In my profession, I probably use this phrase at least a few times each week. If it’s something that is out of your control, just let it go. Good advice, yes? No. Great advice! With my clients, I usually add the caution that I know it’s not as easy as I make it sound. In my personal life, I try to let things go. But I’ve found that one area in particular, it is close to impossible. That is worrying about my children.

All of us parents face the same dilemma. We want our children to go through their lives with minimal issues, few tears, and nothing but sunny days ahead. Guns and Roses said it best in their classic song Sweet Child of Mine, “I’d hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain”. The problem is that is impractical. No, it’s impossible. This is especially true, when your children are grown. They are out there living their lives, having successes and making mistakes. We can’t make decisions for them. We can’t fix their mistakes. The best we can do is to be there to offer advice (if asked) and to be a support if they are flailing.

My daughter, Emma, just spent ten days far from home. Her visit to Greece went well. I’m happy to have her home and safe. But truly, that was a rough ten days for me. What if the plane crashes? What if she loses her passport? What if she gets sick? What if she gets separated from her travel group? Of course, none of that happened. The ups and downs of being a parent. She’s home now, a senior at Cedar Crest College, ready to start her summer internship. Sunny days ahead!

My son, Andy, is about to turn 50. Yes, 50. He’s living a good life. A good marriage, two great kids, a beautiful home, and a job he doesn’t hate. I like when he asks me for advice. It makes me feel needed. But truly, he is handling his life much better than I did mine. But, he knows, I’m here if he starts flailing.

Then there is my daughter, Amy, who died nearly 35 years ago, when she was seventeen. The eleven months from her diagnosis to her death, were the most intense months of anxiety in my life. All that worrying, for nought. She died anyway, on a bright sunny morning 2000 miles from home. My spiritual beliefs tell me that she is somewhere on Earth living a new life. I hope that it is better and longer than the one she shared with us.

As I get older, and my children get wiser and more independent, I will become less of a force in their lives. But that’s okay, because they will have many years later without me. As for now, I’ll continue to try to let things go. I wish for all of us, sunny days ahead.