So it's been almost 6 months since I've last blogged. I've been busy. Now that everyone who knows about my blog has quit reading it since I haven't written for so long I think I'll start posting again.
We sent our oldest daughter, C, off to college 7 weeks ago. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done. My grief started about 2 weeks before she left. Up until that time I was in denial that she was going anywhere. But when she started packing (and repacking) her clothes and belongings it hit me hard. It didn't help that my hubby was out of town a good part of the summer and most of the last 2 weeks before she left. My 3 best girlfriends were also out of town on vacations. I felt like a leaf twirling in the wind with no place to land for a good cry on a sympathetic shoulder. I know, it's a mixed up metaphor but you get the picture.
Her college is 550 miles away so I planned for us to take 2 days to get there. We drove 2/3 of the way the first day, checked into a motel, ate at a disgusting looking greasy spoon, watched a movie together. I cried myself to sleep. The next day we arrived at the college campus early, got her checked in and moved in. They had a very lovely convocation service for the freshmen and their parents. Then while the freshmen met with their advisors we went to a dinner with all the other parents--some of which were grieving like me and some of which seemed quite happy to be rid of their dear son or daughter. Actually, I'm grateful I have the kind of daughter that it is so sorrowful to see leave home.
For the first 4 weeks (yes, it was really 4 weeks) I cried every day. If anyone mentioned her name to me or asked how she was doing I cried. It was getting ridiculous and I was starting to wish I had some drugs. My other 2 children were getting worried about me. My mother was worried about me. I was worried about me. I don't know if my husband was worried but he let me cry on his shoulder a lot. He was sad to see her go, too, but you know how men can kind of put their emotions on a shelf. I, on the other hand, sometimes wear my emotions on my sleeve.
My father used to scold me for wearing my heart on my sleeve. That was when I was much younger. I never understood what he meant at the time. Now I don't post my feelings so plainly and much prefer it that way. But these feelings of sadness had a mind of their own and I could not control them.
One day in church I asked God to heal my broken heart and He inclined His ear to me and heard my prayer. I won't go into the details but something happened that day and I'm okay now. I don't know why I waited so long to call on Him for help. I guess I thought I could handle it on my own. I could not.
The four of us (hubby, son, youngest daughter, me) are going to visit oldest daughter this weekend for Parents Weekend. We are all looking forward to seeing her. I wonder if she's changed much.
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