In the back of my mind (I should say WAY BACK in my mind), I knew this day was coming. Move-in day. The day where I would be dropping off my oldest child to college. Somehow, this momentous event snuck up on me somewhere between changing diapers and attending swim meets. As I stood in her dorm room while she frantically unpacked, decorated, and organized her clothes, I came to that dreadful realization that my child was no longer a child. She was crossing the boundary into adulthood before my very eyes, and, sadly, there was nothing I could do about it. If anything, I was to blame for this turn of events with all of my insistence that she attend college. Of course, I blame my wife too. As we made our way from campus and said our final goodbyes, I couldn’t help but wonder if this whole college thing was a big mistake. But at least I had prepared myself for this transition. I had thought through what it would mean for her to be away. I understood that this was a necessary step in her progression into adulthood. I recognized that I needed to let go so that she can progress with her life. I had it all figured out. And then we drove away and my heart shattered into a million pieces. Any composure I had left quickly evaporated once I got home because everywhere I looked, I was confronted with memories of my daughter. I could see her sitting in the living room, curled up on the couch, reading. Or in the family room watching “How I met your mother” with her brother. Or lying on her bed next to our family dog, Gino. She was everywhere I looked, except she wasn’t there at all. And that’s when the freight train hit me…over and over again. It was a full 24 hours before I could produce language and, when the words finally came out, it was a simple statement: “I miss my daughter.” And I still do.
As the days have gone by, I’m learning to adjust to this new ecosystem. The same is true for her. As I reflect on the events leading up to, including, and after “move-in” day, the one thing I had not counted on was my emotional reaction to this profound change. It was as if I had a “blind spot” and only became aware of my feelings when they slammed into me.
I’m not alone in relying on analytical thinking to work through difficult situations. But not all situations can be “figured out.” Sometimes, we have to feel our way through them.
I’m not a big fan of the boxer Mike Tyson, but I like this quote: “Everyone has a plan…until they get hit!” I had a plan for how I would handle her departure…and then I got hit. It makes me think of all the people we serve at Catholic Charities. They all had plans until some cruel fate delivered a blow. Now they rely on our support, help, and compassion. Mostly, they rely on our understanding hearts that can see beyond the arithmetic of their situation, and can connect to the real emotions that emerge from their struggles. There’s no amount of figuring out that can substitute for a heart that truly understands.
Glimpses 