Confessions of a Daughterless Mother

It's one of those days.  A day where the clouds and the rain seep into my bones and the nostalgia of these past months makes me weep. I walked by a picture of Cooper today as a baby.  It stopped me in my tracks, sucking me into the time sucking whole of memories and whispers of where the time went. I am trying to move toward the after, trying to move toward a space where the thought of him leaving doesn't move me to tears and physically hurt. I could wish it didn't, but it does. I am embarrassed. I have friends who lost their daughter this past year. I have friends who are fighting cancer and life threatening health issues. I have dear friends who are grieving failed marriages and some who are facing financial catastrophes. And yet. I can't move past the grief I feel. I read on a Facebook post somewhere these past few months that your child leaving for college isn't everything. But it isn't nothing, either. It's something. I am trying to tame this som...

When I was still coaching skating, my boys were young. In fact, I retired shortly after Aiden was born and Cooper went into first grade. While I have an infinite number of wonderful memories, one that comes back to me often was an off handed comment a mother of a school aged skater said to me.  Her son was new to private lessons and she was visibly anxious, nervous. I wasn't her son's coach, but we were chatting while the Zamboni did its job and she said, "It's hard to put him out on the ice with someone I hardly know. It's like opening up his little brain and letting someone dump into it whatever they want. I have no control over it." I'm paraphrasing of course, it was nearly 15 years ago, but the sentiment was powerful for me. I regarded her words as a coach, being careful my instructions were chosen wisely, making certain my criticisms were coupled with encouragement. It wasn't until my own sons went to school that I took those words to heart ...