Love & Letting Go

My son has a poet’s soul and an overflowing, heavy heart. He feels so deeply, so genuinely, so purely. He is able to see and feel things in situations that sometimes adults miss. This creates a sweetness in his intentions and a gentleness in his actions toward others and the world around him. He gets it. He really does.

But it also means he hurts. So much. I love that he is able to feel so deeply but hate when that feeling is sadness, hurt, pain. My mama bear instinct is to protect his little heart as much as possible. But the older he gets, the more I have to let go. And that kills me. That absofreakinglutely kills me.

It’s been an hour since I dropped off my son, crying hysterically, at school. His dad’s been away at a design conference and comes home today. My son, who has been amazingly wonderful and happy while his dad’s been gone, suddenly lost it. My son, who hates being late to school (which is always my fault) and hates missing anything at school, did not want to go to school today. He wanted to stay home until his dad came home. He missed his dad. Badly. It’s like suddenly a pipe burst and the realization of all of those emotions just hit my son hard and he couldn’t stop it. Watching my son feel all of that pain so suddenly, so fiercely, just ripped my heart out.

But. But…the world doesn’t stop for this kind of pain. The world expects you to compose yourself, take deep breaths, and move on. The world expects you to logically pull together your emotions, stuff them in a sack, stand up, and walk away as if everything is ok. The world expects my son to go to school, and me to go to work, and to table all that we feel for…what? Sometimes I’m not entirely sure, and I’m supposed to be the adult.

I’m torn. Torn between teaching my son how to accept his feelings and move on and allowing him time to have those feelings and know that everything is not ok. Sometimes everything can be as awful as you imagine. Sometimes loving someone means you will feel more pain than you could ever possibly feel physically. I want him to know it’s ok to feel this way, to acknowledge and allow the pain, and to move on with the pain.

I love the teachers at my son’s school. They are amazing with my children. They know them as individuals and respect their unique traits. I left after 20 minutes, and they called 20 minutes later to tell me he calmed down. His teacher asked him to draw a welcome home sign for his dad. Tears, and this time they were mine. I couldn’t ask for a better village to help me raise my child. Because sometimes I don’t know how to teach my son something I haven’t been 100% able to learn myself, and in this way, he and I can learn how to sit with our emotions and move on with the pain, together.

So he’s at school learning to love while letting go, and I’m in my office, trying to do the same.