It’s 2:00pm on a sweltering afternoon in Columbus, Ohio and I feel nothing. And that bothers me.
I’m winding down the process of getting our son checked in as a freshman at The Ohio State University. It’s an absolute circus. There are multiple lines to stand in, sticker footprints to follow, and forms to fill out. And of course, payments to make.
There are two types of college parents. The alumni, second child-drop-off know-it-all who is more than happy to tell us how our hearts would be broken today.
And then there are the first timers like me. I went to college at night and on weekends. This is overwhelming for me too.
I already knew my heart would be broken today. I’d been told that as soon as our kids were born.
When we had Dustin in 1996, it was a gift. I didn’t have much of a relationship with my older children at the time and felt I had a second chance.
Dustin and I were really close, sharing a love of wrestling, football, and food. We attended Redskins and Ravens games, WWE events, and went one summer to the Professional Football Hall of Fame in Canton. It was this way until about late middle school when kids, especially boys, tend to drift into their own world. But up until this time he would often still want to hold my hand when we were out in public. I always appreciated this. I didn’t experience this with my dad. I might have been 5 or so when once when I hugged him, I kissed him on the lips. He recoiled in anger and yelled at me to never do that again. I never forgot that.
When Dustin was accepted into OSU, he mentally was already there. By then he was independent, with a job, a girlfriend, and a small circle of friends. When he graduated high school, his girlfriend immediately broke up with him which sent summer plans into a tailspin. There was a lot going on as we were in the process of relocating to Tennessee and I had already moved down there from Maryland. Dustin opted to come down with me and spent the summer moping around.
I started looking forward to school starting.
So, when we drove up to Columbus that August, I was secretly celebrating.
But after arriving on campus, reality set it. My celebration turned into numbness. And by 2PM it concerned me. I wondered when the heartbreaking was supposed to happen.
I helped Dustin unpack and make his bed. They stuck him in an antiquated dorm that didn’t have AC.
Fortunately, his roommate’s mom ran out and bought a fan. I felt bad for him but didn’t bother to tell him he had it made compared to sharing a room with 39 other dirty, sweaty, stinky guys in an open bay barracks like I did in boot camp.
His roommate was anxious to get out and start the party and so was Dustin. He agreed to walk me to my truck. As soon as we went up the walkway in the parking structure and I saw my truck, it hit me.
I broke down like I hadn’t in a long time. It came out of nowhere and wouldn’t stop. Dustin hugged me awkwardly and I composed myself. We said goodbye and I drove out of the structure. As I turned on to the interstate, headed back home, that wave of emotion hit me again. I was sobbing so hard I had to pull over, which on that part of the road was difficult. It felt a little like when you have food poisoning and can’t stop throwing up. I think it was my heart throwing up that afternoon.
And then, as I again composed myself, a thought crossed my mind. I’d be doing this again in three years. This time with my daughter Allison. And immediately, my heart threw up again.
Allison and I had a special relationship as she grew up. We shared a love of music and creative things. From age 5 through 16, we would go out to Carrabba’s or Macaroni Grill before attending the annual father-daughter dance at the church. It was our special date night. In Middle School, our thing became going out for coffee every morning before I dropped her at school.
When we moved down to Tennessee, Allison and I remained close and as she entered her senior year, I knew the big date was just around the corner.
The closer we got to graduation though, the more independent Allison became. Her friends all lived in Clarksville, about 45 minutes from us so she was always gone. As soon as she was accepted into the University of Tennessee, she mentally checked out of childhood and was ready to go.
That summer was full of tension. Allison and her mom are often like oil and water and the elements were active. There were battles over curfews and freedom. I began looking forward to August.
By July 4th, I was praying for August to hurry up and get here. UT sent out a letter offering a two-week math camp for incoming freshmen who might need some help. We decided Allison needed some help. I drove her to Knoxville and got her checked in. I was so excited to leave and get home that I got on I-40 east and didn’t realize until 30 minutes later I was headed in the wrong direction.
By the time math camp was over, we were already in empty nest mode. To be perfectly honest, and I feel really bad about this, I don’t remember dropping Allison off at college the following week. I just remember that I wasn’t devastated. I was sad. I missed her. But I handled it without a tear.
Both of our kids did great in college and have successful careers. You can see they managed to graduate from the photo. Dustin impresses me with his ability to mix house music and I speed walk to his tracks.
Allison, now officially a road warrior herself, and I enjoy bitching about travel issues and only speak of airports in their three letter codes. I love when they now come home to visit, especially when they can be home at the same time. And when they bring their partners. It makes me feel complete.
I think in both cases, the Universe had my back. And my heart. With Dustin I needed to be reminded as I was driving home from Columbus, of how much I loved him. With Allison, I needed some help letting her go. Seeing her independent streak that summer made me realize she was already gone, which meant I had nothing to let go of.
I’m grateful for that.
I’m grateful for them.
What have you had to let go of?