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(The Writer and her son - recent photo) 

As single parents, we pour our hearts into our children, dedicating and sacrificing our lives for them, only to watch them drift away.  As time passes by, we feel them slowly slipping through our fingers…..

.             .             .

Schoolbag in hand, she(he) leaves home in the early morning

Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile

I watch her (him) go with a surge of that well known sadness

And I have to sit down for a while

The feeling that I'm losing her(him) forever

And without really entering her world

I'm glad whenever I can share her(his) laughter

That funny little girl (boy)

-“Slipping Through My Fingers” by ABBA

.             .             .

So what did I tell the son who was no longer to be mine?

1. I told him that his spouse and his own family is now his top priority, not anybody else. Not his parents, not his siblings.

2. I turned over his property papers, personal documents, pictures in my  keeping to his wife.

3. I asked him to change my name as his insurance beneficiary to that of his spouse. I also delete him in my own HMOs, etc.

4. I clarified my own "last will" to him. I made him understand how my estate will be divided just in case I perish. 

5. I told him that him supporting me or anybody in the family is always a generous and loving gesture, but we are not each other's mandatory obligation.

 In my case, if my old age funds get depleted while I am on oxygen tank -- do not spend the funds of the next generation on me. Cut off that chord.

I do not approve that my grandkids will suffer in forcing to extend my life -- I already lived it.

.             .             .

Sleep in our eyes, her(him) and me at the breakfast table

Barely awake I let precious time go by

Then when she's(he’s) gone, there's that odd melancholy feeling

And a sense of guilt I can't deny

What happened to the wonderful adventures

The places I had planned for us to go

Well, some of that we did, but most we didn't

And why, I just don't know

.             .             .

6. I updated him of my health, medical conditions. I informed him of my retirement plans and how I intend to take care of myself. This gives him peace that I am fine as he moves on with his own unit.

7. I reminded him of the negative intergenerational tendencies, personality flaws of his parents or the past generations , that he may have consciously or subconsciously acquired -- they usually surface more and stronger when they get married. Heal, this lineage must grow and improve.

 8. I told him to always be good to his in laws, they are now his family too.

9. I declared to him that my loyalty as his Mother is no longer to him alone, nor to his wife -- but to their marriage.

10. I asked for his forgiveness for my own shortcomings as a parent and ask that he do better to his own kids.

11. I  told him that I am so proud of the man that he has become, even with all his flaws and imperfections. 

I then release him and surrender him to his wife.

As difficult and as it was, I loosened my grip and let him slip through my fingers. 

Then I started to figure out how to navigate the next season of my life the best possible way.  

Love and light!

 .             .             .

Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture

And save it from the funny tricks of time

Slipping through my fingers...

Slipping through my fingers all the time

-             By ABBA

.             .             .

As we tread the winding road –

I did not anticipate becoming an empty nester in my 40’s, I was not prepared for it. I am fulfilled in how my children turned out to be, but I was surprised with the feelings of loss and confusion at the same time. I learned, relearned and unlearned many things.   

Today I am at a better place, though there are still a lot to navigate. 

What are your stories of letting go? 

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Thank you for reading my essay. My name is Abigail Ortega. I write warm, poignant essays and short stories. I also paint simple artworks. If you like to read more of my work, you may join our newsletter here:  https://afto.myflodesk.com/qj13kigo4b.

The Writer and her 4 month old son, 30 yrs ago