Coconut Water and Sea Moss

The Unexpected Weight of Letting Go

I like to think of myself as a pretty strong person. We’ve known this day was coming, the idea of our first baby leaving for college. I’ve been hyping it up all year, but let me tell you, there are no words for the actual send-off.

The sleep feels different. The angst is stronger. The excitement spills over. And then, like waves, this deep calm washes in, reminding me that we’ve raised her to be ready for this. What I didn’t expect was the realization that we’ve also been preparing ourselves for this.

It’s a transition.

And the emotions? They’re everywhere. A tug-of-war between elation and selfishness. Pride and anxiety. Wanting to micromanage, but knowing she needs independence. A full speech, or just a quiet “you got this, girl.”

Somewhere in the middle of all that is where I’m hanging out right now.

The Quiet Moments That Catch You

I think we spend the last year of their senior year soaking it all in, making memories, squeezing every last drop out of summer. Then suddenly, it’s here. You do all the prepping, and then it happens. You’re face-to-face with a goodbye you’ve been both expecting and dreading.

Even though I’ve been telling myself all along, she’ll be great, she’s ready, it’s not that far, she’ll have a blast, I wonder now if that was all a way to protect my heart. A little mental armor for something you can’t truly prepare for.

My only advice? Plan a really full next day. Or plan absolutely nothing. There’s no middle ground. The feelings will hit when you open the fridge and see the coconut water and sea moss only she uses.

Maybe it is like grief?

I’m learning that letting go is part of parenting. And it’s okay for it to feel both joyful and heartbreaking at the same time.

Two things can be true.

So maybe it is grief, but with a silver lining. Because the ache only proves how much love is there. And that love never leaves the house, even when they do.