If I were in charge of the dictionary I wouldn't even include a definition behind the word "heartfelt" - I'd just point to your writing, which is always brimming with it. Your writing is just like you, full of understated brilliance and grounded, poetic wisdom. The good news is that your kids moving out is just the beginning of a lifelong friendship that is unlike any other. That's what you get when you've done it right.
Rob, I’m right behind you with 14 year olds. Alas…
I loved this passage: “All we can do is dance and embarrass them, showering them with love and mortification, even—or especially—when they push us away.”
There aren’t lovely enough words for this. Humanity cries out for this level of expressed grace, heart, soul. Not hidden but right out there.
What’s your profession if I may ask? I’m wondering how you have such awareness.
This past summer I house and dog sat for a family driving their oldest daughter from CO to CA for college. I felt so privileged to be able to support the mom gather herself to get in the car and drive off. She was overwhelmed. I knew how hard it was for her. They had a downs daughter who hugged me tightly before loading up. I’d met her 20 minutes prior. The dad couldn’t talk. He just watched.
Life is unspeakably precious yet you capture it with your words.
This is so lovely to read, thanks so much, Kathy. What a beautiful moment from your summer. Thanks so much for sharing it.
As for my profession, I've been a product person for a long time, which my in-laws have never understood... but which I tell them is talking with people to understand what they need, and then building things to solve their problems. I was a musician before that, and had a music company, which is where I learned about the whole product side of things.
Thanks again for reading, and leaving such a beautiful comment.
Another great piece, well done. When both our daughters were 3, I mentioned to Susan Pelosi, who's kid was going to college, that it would be so awful when my daughter left for college. She replied, "You might be ready." I was shocked. "Never!" I thought. Now, 15 years later, I get it. Ha!
Thank you, Liz. There's plenty to look forward to, for sure. I loved your piece about everyone being home again, this past summer, sliding back into the rhythms. 💛
You’ve stirred a memory. When our only child left home, I was stunned by the silence in our home, which had been the clubhouse for ahis cheerful troop of friends. No more teenage feet clumping up and down the stairs. I missed all that energy and hope.
I'm looking across the room at my two year old son, and fiancée sitting on the sofa. Reading this is a nice reminder just wow fast the past two years have gone. Time to close this computers and play on the couch. thanks Rob
Rob, this really should be the replacement for the old platitude, "enjoy the time, it goes by fast." That saying is true and cliche for all the reasons you described, and then some I'm sure. But stories like this cut through all the cliches in the best way. As a parent of younger kids, I'll remember this so much more clearly and often. I appreciate that very much. Well done!
Rob, this is such an engaging reminder of how listening is an art, and how it’s often an act of deep compassion.
The way you engage with your daughter – knowing, like the loving father you are, that her annoying complaints run deeper than the surface “dialog” – should be required reading for parents, especially for those who “know” they have all the answers.
Watching your kids grow up, and going through the lovingly anxious moments of seeing one of them ready to fly out into the world (even in a “dude-free” environment), has to be difficult. And somewhat terrifying. And wondrous.
You capture all of that, and much more, in a few hundred words.
Keep dancing, and don’t be afraid of embarrassing your kids. They’ll surely protest … and love you even more for it.
Oof. My 18 year old leaves for university in 3 weeks (we're in Australia). This week, we're on a little family holiday to Sydney and the push-pull is so real. His annoyance and grumpiness, balanced by guarded cheeriness. My ridiculous over-solicitousness to make sure he's having a good time. My constant questioning to make sure he has everything he needs and is responding to school emails. So annoying to us both. I'm not ready for him to go, and on the other hand, the anticipation is killing me.
It truly can be both things at once, can't it. I know that over-solicitousness all too well. Very glad to read your comment. Here's wishing you all the best during these three weeks, with all the push-pull. It sure is a lot.
I remember when my first son left. I felt like someone had taken a melon baller and scooped out my heart. When my second son left, the melon baller took all that remained. It gets better but DANG. My boys leaving hurt much worse than the labor pains it took to bring them into the world.
I will tell you something wonderful /sad - if you are blessed with them, you will get to go through it all again with grandchildren! You think they will be toddlers who adore your stupid faces, for ever............
If I were in charge of the dictionary I wouldn't even include a definition behind the word "heartfelt" - I'd just point to your writing, which is always brimming with it. Your writing is just like you, full of understated brilliance and grounded, poetic wisdom. The good news is that your kids moving out is just the beginning of a lifelong friendship that is unlike any other. That's what you get when you've done it right.
Thank you, Rick—what an unbelievably kind thing to say. And I know you're right about the lifelong friendship.
Your love for your kids and wife shines through in so much of your writing and is such a beautiful thing.
Thank you, Sarah—I so appreciate that.
Rob, I’m right behind you with 14 year olds. Alas…
I loved this passage: “All we can do is dance and embarrass them, showering them with love and mortification, even—or especially—when they push us away.”
That’s our job description.
May we ace it.
Thank you, James! Yes, may we ace it.
There aren’t lovely enough words for this. Humanity cries out for this level of expressed grace, heart, soul. Not hidden but right out there.
What’s your profession if I may ask? I’m wondering how you have such awareness.
This past summer I house and dog sat for a family driving their oldest daughter from CO to CA for college. I felt so privileged to be able to support the mom gather herself to get in the car and drive off. She was overwhelmed. I knew how hard it was for her. They had a downs daughter who hugged me tightly before loading up. I’d met her 20 minutes prior. The dad couldn’t talk. He just watched.
Life is unspeakably precious yet you capture it with your words.
This is so lovely to read, thanks so much, Kathy. What a beautiful moment from your summer. Thanks so much for sharing it.
As for my profession, I've been a product person for a long time, which my in-laws have never understood... but which I tell them is talking with people to understand what they need, and then building things to solve their problems. I was a musician before that, and had a music company, which is where I learned about the whole product side of things.
Thanks again for reading, and leaving such a beautiful comment.
Wait what this is a thing? I am fascinated, and intrigued..
My kids are 3 and 5. So we’re not quite at this stage. This was good preparation material.
So glad to hear this, Lee!
Another great piece, well done. When both our daughters were 3, I mentioned to Susan Pelosi, who's kid was going to college, that it would be so awful when my daughter left for college. She replied, "You might be ready." I was shocked. "Never!" I thought. Now, 15 years later, I get it. Ha!
Thanks, man—seems forever ago, doesn't it? I appreciate your being here.
This is beautiful, Rob. I’m just a very short chapter ahead of you, and with all the difficult changes also come beautiful new ones.
Thank you, Liz. There's plenty to look forward to, for sure. I loved your piece about everyone being home again, this past summer, sliding back into the rhythms. 💛
Sweet memories. Thanks for waking them.
Thanks so much, Paul. I really appreciate your taking the time to read and comment. So glad it sparked some memories for you.
You’ve stirred a memory. When our only child left home, I was stunned by the silence in our home, which had been the clubhouse for ahis cheerful troop of friends. No more teenage feet clumping up and down the stairs. I missed all that energy and hope.
Yes, the clumping! So much energy and hope. Thank you, Rona—beautiful memories.
I'm looking across the room at my two year old son, and fiancée sitting on the sofa. Reading this is a nice reminder just wow fast the past two years have gone. Time to close this computers and play on the couch. thanks Rob
Ah, that's really wonderful to hear, Dominik.
Peak wholesome content. As always, thank you for sharing.
Thanks so much, Libby. Good to see you here!
Rob, this really should be the replacement for the old platitude, "enjoy the time, it goes by fast." That saying is true and cliche for all the reasons you described, and then some I'm sure. But stories like this cut through all the cliches in the best way. As a parent of younger kids, I'll remember this so much more clearly and often. I appreciate that very much. Well done!
Thank you, Matt, that's so kind of you to say. I'm really happy this one resonated. Thank you for saying all of this—it means a lot to me.
Rob, this is such an engaging reminder of how listening is an art, and how it’s often an act of deep compassion.
The way you engage with your daughter – knowing, like the loving father you are, that her annoying complaints run deeper than the surface “dialog” – should be required reading for parents, especially for those who “know” they have all the answers.
Watching your kids grow up, and going through the lovingly anxious moments of seeing one of them ready to fly out into the world (even in a “dude-free” environment), has to be difficult. And somewhat terrifying. And wondrous.
You capture all of that, and much more, in a few hundred words.
Keep dancing, and don’t be afraid of embarrassing your kids. They’ll surely protest … and love you even more for it.
Thank you, Larry—I really appreciate the lovely, thoughtful comment. Good to see you here.
Oof. My 18 year old leaves for university in 3 weeks (we're in Australia). This week, we're on a little family holiday to Sydney and the push-pull is so real. His annoyance and grumpiness, balanced by guarded cheeriness. My ridiculous over-solicitousness to make sure he's having a good time. My constant questioning to make sure he has everything he needs and is responding to school emails. So annoying to us both. I'm not ready for him to go, and on the other hand, the anticipation is killing me.
It truly can be both things at once, can't it. I know that over-solicitousness all too well. Very glad to read your comment. Here's wishing you all the best during these three weeks, with all the push-pull. It sure is a lot.
I remember when my first son left. I felt like someone had taken a melon baller and scooped out my heart. When my second son left, the melon baller took all that remained. It gets better but DANG. My boys leaving hurt much worse than the labor pains it took to bring them into the world.
Yes, I feel this, Julie. And that it gets better. It seems unbelievably hard before it gets better.
I will tell you something wonderful /sad - if you are blessed with them, you will get to go through it all again with grandchildren! You think they will be toddlers who adore your stupid faces, for ever............
Something to look forward to, for sure. Thank you, Billy.