A wise mother once said: Life is about letting go.
Watching our sons leave the fan section – to wear a jersey. I’m letting go.
Charging the football field for the first time. This letting go hurts.
And who ever said my son didn’t have hops? He’s blocking punts. I’m filling with pride.
As I hear myself hollering too loud, I watch from the corner of my eye… a beautiful young girl walking by. She’s wearing my son’s jersey. So, I’m forced to let go.
Life is about letting them take a hit.
And knowing our kids will fall. Sometimes hard. Sometimes they can’t get back up.
I’m forced to watch my strong son limp into the emergency room. On his own.
While I walk behind pushing an empty wheelchair. I feel broke. He’s hanging on.
He can barely support his weight.
He wobbles. His knee looks wrong. Something is very wrong.
I study his expression, but he does not show his pain. I only see determination.
We smalltalk. About his team. Their mission. Their vision. Their need… for each other.
We talk about it takes to be a team player. unselfishness. dedication. resilience. a positive spirit. talent.
Then, we talk about his future.
The nurse forces him into the wheelchair. he finally gives in.
I hear the doctor say something about his ligaments.
No weight bearing. Torn. Surgery.
His season is most likely done.
This time, my son is letting go to an athlete’s dream.
We’re both letting go.
We search to hang onto something! Each other.
We talk all the way home.
We grab lunch, and play cards as we eat.
Ignoring emails. Ignoring the phone.
Instead of putting our clothes into baskets, we’re putting that time into each other.
Just simply being there.
Together. Hanging on.
Working on projects.
“You know Mom, you really don’t need to sit here all day,” he said.
I grinned. He had no idea how much I loved this!!!
I’m hanging on. To the teenage boy who is so busy, I just follow his dirty clothes.
I’m desperately hanging onto the boy who goes from one athletic season to another.
From the field, to the court, to the diamond. We let him go.
I’m holding tight to the days we read books and played in the dirt.
We’d race inside for science projects and board games. Cookies and Koolaid.
I’m clinging to the days we’d rock all day. Together.
I’m hanging on to the days I could kiss him goodnight, and he didn’t mind.
When your son can only stand on one leg, yet walks his way with his head held high- his mental game is strong. Letting go is a good thing.
It’s much easier to let go of today – when you are filled with great hope in tomorrow!
LET THEM GO to GROW.
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