EJP

I'm not so good at good-byes.  The oldest one is off to college in less than 3 months so it seems like a fine time to question any parenting decision we've ever made and wonder if we should have done everything completely differently.  I don't know who decided that our kids need to leave the nest to go to college or the military or wherever they decide to go.  There should not be an 18 year expiration date.  He's ready.  I'm not ready.  The time went by too quickly.  I knew it would, but I didn't expect that I'd be here, at this place, so soon.  It's like when you go to an amusement park and you wait all that time in line for the roller coaster and you finally hop on and then it's over.  

I have different ways of coping with good-byes and I wouldn't recommend any of them.  A lot of times I've walled off my heart to keep from getting hurt.  It's an immature defense mechanism, but it does prevent a lot of the sting.  I've made myself immensely busy at work this year.  On the surface, the choices seemed rational and well timed but I wonder if it wasn't some lame effort to keep from dealing with the reality of his impending departure.  When you're about to bring your babies home for the first time, you nest; get the house ready for their arrival by painting and buying furniture and preparing your home.  When you prepare for them to launch, you distract yourself with seemingly endless and meaningless tasks (all the while you are doing your best to convince yourself of the importance of said tasks).  

The irony is I'm quite good at living in the moment.  That's breast cancer's gift to me.  I have a fairly healthy relationship with what matters and what doesn't.  But there is absolutely no preparing your heart for this next phase of life.  I've watched friends go through it and I've seen them expose the fleshy bits of their heart but I couldn't quite place myself in their shoes.  I knew my time would come soon enough.  

My sister-in-law says that there is no time for sadness because the alternative, not launching them, is far worse.  I am grateful.  So grateful.  Twelve years ago, I didn't know if I'd be alive to see this day.  He's worked so hard.  He's earned every achievement to his name and I know that he's not gone forever but there will be no more first day of school photos on the front lawn with his brother and sister.  No more knowing he's tucked into his bed in his bedroom under our roof every night.  No more of him coming through the front door at the end of the day after practice or work.  No more scratching for food in the pantry, standing like a sentry in the doorway.  No more sitting at the kitchen counter doing his homework every night.  No more barreling through the door and asking what's for dinner.  

I've enjoyed every last minute of his brief time at home with us.  For him, it's a short part of his life, but for us, it's been everything.  If I could rewind and relive every single moment, I would; every sick day on the couch, every water polo game, every afternoon pick-up, every agonizing day of middle school.  There is nothing I'd leave out.  I love you Evan James Poythress with all of my heart and I wish you all the love and happiness that you have brought to your father and me.  You will do great things and you are well on your way to becoming a man.  You've brought us so much joy and I'm so grateful for the time we've had together under one roof.  I love you more than words can describe.