Mine was a situation faced by virtually all parents, sooner or later. This story is probably as old as the human family itself. My daughter, aged 21, and a college graduate since this past June, was about to leave home and begin her first job.
To her mother and me, as apparently to our daughter herself, this end-of-the-summer event was highly desirable and one for which she was well prepared. After all, she had spent considerable time away from home previously. The summer of 2000 saw her in Switzerland working for a student travel publication. And in August of the previous year, she had studied French in the city of Angers. So we were used to her going away for lengthy stays.
But, admittedly, this occasion was different because it seemed definitive. Our only child, now grown up, was leaving the country to serve as a teacher abroad. She would probably never return home again as a resident rather than a visitor. Though her room would always be ready to receive her, from now on she could be only an occasional occupant.
I saw this leaving of home as a dramatic rite of passage in our daughter’s life and in the life of our family and I had remained focused on the opportunities she would enjoy as a result of the move. To me, it was an exciting opportunity for her to taste new experiences and meet the challenges of young adulthood. The transition felt exciting to me and I welcomed its approach.
On the evening before her departure, I went to bed early expecting to get a good night’s sleep. However, I soon found myself unable to stay asleep because of emotions suddenly stirring in me. Unlike my feelings previously, now in the night I felt sad about the event scheduled to happen on the following day.
Of course on the rational level I still wanted my daughter to follow through on plans to leave on the great adventure. Deciding not to go would not have been thinkable in this situation. But feelings of sadness now prevented me from getting to sleep. Over and over, strong feelings of regret swept through my psyche and roiled my brain.
Despite what reason told me, I felt myself to be losing a daughter. My life would never be the same. Our household would be deprived of a youthful presence that enlarged our living. Without her, things would surely be more quiet and orderly but at a great price.
Inevitably, words of the Beatles’ song “She’s Leaving Home” came to mind. In that ditty, however, the daughter is leaving under a cloud. The key line of the song goes “She’s leaving home where she lived for so many years alone.” She cannot get along with her parents and is departing under some duress, not at all my daughter’s situation. Still, I could identify with the sadness of it all, strongly suggested by the music.
Next morning, the day of departure, I analyzed the situation without the distortions of late night. And I continue to reflect on its significance. To me it is an event filled with spiritual meaning. Both for our daughter and for us, her parents, it requires spiritual reflection to be understood.
The pattern is at least as old as Abraham, the Hebrew patriarch. Thousands of years ago, he left his home in Ur of the Chaldees and set out on a journey to a new land. He did so with incomplete information and, of course, in the conditions of his day, without the comforts of modern travel. But he heard God’s call to leave the familiar setting of home and he listened to that call.
Growing up into adulthood usually involves leaving home. All that is comfortable and familiar must be left behind. The old security must give way to the daring of new challenges. Young people must discover that they can indeed cope with the world.
We parents also must be willing to let our children go. This letting go is a form of self-denial that can prove painful indeed. But it must be faced if we are to fulfill our call as parents. Whatever our feelings, we must release our children with our blessing for them to have the same opportunities for finding themselves as adults that we have had.
Richard Griffin