Oo and oooofff. Those feelings. I remember doing exactly this to all of mine at some point when they were younger. And the feeling when they left home. I miss them too.
Yeah. I've been through it before. When she left for college on the other side of the US, it was so, so hard. This feels different. Thanks to that experience, though, I know that we'll all be OK. With time. Thanks for letting me know you know. 🙂 I'm sorry you've had to live it, too.
This is a beautiful but painful piece, Rita, and I'm both happy and sad for all of you that your daughter got her visa. As a daughter of immigrants, and as someone who (with her husband and children) made three major moves herself, I agree that all immigration is trauma. I wish I could say something to ease what you're going through, but the only thing I can come up with is to encourage you to keep your hands busy. I'm sorry if that sounds crazy or silly or frivolous, but I've come to believe that handiwork has the power to keep us women mostly sane, to keep us from sinking and drowning under the weight of what we have no choice but to endure. Sending you love, Rita.
It does not sound crazy or frivolous at all! I've had no desire for it lately, but I'm hoping it will come back. And thank you for these words. I so much appreciate your simple acknowledgement that it is hard and that there isn't much to ease it. I wonder how Western culture might be different if we were better at sitting with and accepting things that are hard.
Reading through tears... it's so bittersweet. For me it brings up all the mental barriers and stresses that come up that prevent me from being 100% present with my daughter, and I resent them so much.
It is so hard when you're in the thick of parenting and career. I remember that resentment well. It's just so much all at once, and if you defer in one area it won't be the same when you get back to it. If you get back to it. For whatever it's worth, I couldn't be 100% nearly as much as I wanted to be, but my daughter and I are in a really good place with each other. And I feel good about the choices I made, even though younger me might not have believed I would be.
Thanks for sharing this, Rita. I've been thinking about your post all week - reaching back your hand on your daughter's leg to calm her down, what a visual, it moves me so deeply. I think with maturity and career and parenthood comes pulls from so many different directions. My kid, my husband, my work, my mom, never mind what I actually want and need to do. It's impossible to do it all as well as I would like. I do take solace in your words that you feel good about the choices you made. P.S. Sweden is a wonderful place to visit!
I hope that after writing this, processing how things are with you, delving deeper into personal understanding, you feel a bit better, more able to deal with the realities you face. Your depth and resilience comes through with this post.
Thank you, Ally. I think I actually feel worse! But I'm feeling more myself, which I think is going in the right direction. Thanks for reading and keeping me company on this journey.
I think what you've written here, Rita, is brave and healing. I think it helps us all (sometimes just energetically, if that's not too woo-woo for you) when we can let our hearts be seen, even when there are tears. I think of all the times I've cried in front of people without meaning to (tears often run close to the surface for me) and how profusely I apologize for it, like my true emotions might make them feel awkward or embarrassed. Pish! How much better might we all be if we could be honest about what hurts deep down.
Hugs to you and your family as you navigate these days before your daughter's departure. I can totally empathize! May FaceTime become, against all odds, your open palm, your twisted arm, your long drive home.
Yes! Why do we work so hard to hide our emotions? I think we would all be better off if we could all share our feelings more honestly. I like to think we're getting there.
Oh, Rita, I love and hate this at the same time. I think this is my most favorite thing you've ever written. I am sure I have said this before, and I am certain I will say it again. 😘
As someone already said, oooofff. It is so damn hard! You want your children to grow and learn and spread their wings and fly the nest and all that jazz. BUT. But then.
It is so lovely that you have had this bonus in-between time with your daughter, what a gift. My eldest is 19 and reluctant to leave home just yet, so I am trying to find the balance between encouraging her to find her way and screaming “don’t gooooooo, just stay home forever!”
It certainly gives me pause to think about the fact that I live fully on the opposite coast of the continent from my own parents, and how that must be for them. I almost can’t think about it.
And then, a few generations back, my great-greats leaving their families back in Ireland and Scotland and travelling to another world, never to see their parents again. It’s a lot of pain to fathom. Which is my long winded way of saying that you are not alone. And I also wish that I had cherished those fast moving blurry moments of such intense physical closeness with my small children, their sweaty little palms, their breath, their world that just encompassed US.
You have a beautiful way of capturing and expressing really BIG feelings that help me feel a little less alone. Thank you for that!
Thanks for keeping me company in this uncomfortable place. It does kinda suck when your kids grow up to be the kind of people you hoped you were raising them to be. 🙃
I have thought many times of my ancestors who left their continent/countries to come to this one; I knew some of them. Even those who just came to the far west coast from the midwest, in a time when travel and communication was so much different. I've been thinking of the family they left behind. When we went to Croatia and saw the small island and small village my great-grandmother left when she was a teenager, my heart ached for her. She had no say in the going. I wish I could ask her how it was for her, to leave a place where she was so known. Maybe she wanted to go, but maybe she didn't. Many others from there came at the same time, and they all settled in Bellingham together. We recognized so many last names in the village's cemetery. And what did it do to those left behind? No one to really know now, as they are all gone.
Yes, lots of pain to fathom. Thank you for validating my complicated feelings about all of this.
When I'd talk to my grandmother on the phone from Norway, she'd say, "I wish you were here. No, I don't, your life is good there." My oldest moved to England at 18 and has stayed. I wish he were here. And I really don't. He's happy. They say grief is the price for love. And not just the grief of death - I'd add - but of distance and the loss of physical proximity. My heart goes out to you.
We are heading out to dinner with friends in a few hours, I probably shouldn't have read this now, lol. First, can I say, lovely lovely writing. I will be subscribing after I press the "post" comment button. I too am struggling with the distance of my children. Your words echo my feelings exactly. I'm not sure how any of this resolves. But I am the eternal optimist, so I'm waiting patiently for some answers. Always nice to connect. Thank you. 💚
Oo and oooofff. Those feelings. I remember doing exactly this to all of mine at some point when they were younger. And the feeling when they left home. I miss them too.
Yeah. I've been through it before. When she left for college on the other side of the US, it was so, so hard. This feels different. Thanks to that experience, though, I know that we'll all be OK. With time. Thanks for letting me know you know. 🙂 I'm sorry you've had to live it, too.
This is a beautiful but painful piece, Rita, and I'm both happy and sad for all of you that your daughter got her visa. As a daughter of immigrants, and as someone who (with her husband and children) made three major moves herself, I agree that all immigration is trauma. I wish I could say something to ease what you're going through, but the only thing I can come up with is to encourage you to keep your hands busy. I'm sorry if that sounds crazy or silly or frivolous, but I've come to believe that handiwork has the power to keep us women mostly sane, to keep us from sinking and drowning under the weight of what we have no choice but to endure. Sending you love, Rita.
It does not sound crazy or frivolous at all! I've had no desire for it lately, but I'm hoping it will come back. And thank you for these words. I so much appreciate your simple acknowledgement that it is hard and that there isn't much to ease it. I wonder how Western culture might be different if we were better at sitting with and accepting things that are hard.
Reading through tears... it's so bittersweet. For me it brings up all the mental barriers and stresses that come up that prevent me from being 100% present with my daughter, and I resent them so much.
It is so hard when you're in the thick of parenting and career. I remember that resentment well. It's just so much all at once, and if you defer in one area it won't be the same when you get back to it. If you get back to it. For whatever it's worth, I couldn't be 100% nearly as much as I wanted to be, but my daughter and I are in a really good place with each other. And I feel good about the choices I made, even though younger me might not have believed I would be.
Thanks for sharing this, Rita. I've been thinking about your post all week - reaching back your hand on your daughter's leg to calm her down, what a visual, it moves me so deeply. I think with maturity and career and parenthood comes pulls from so many different directions. My kid, my husband, my work, my mom, never mind what I actually want and need to do. It's impossible to do it all as well as I would like. I do take solace in your words that you feel good about the choices you made. P.S. Sweden is a wonderful place to visit!
I hope that after writing this, processing how things are with you, delving deeper into personal understanding, you feel a bit better, more able to deal with the realities you face. Your depth and resilience comes through with this post.
Thank you, Ally. I think I actually feel worse! But I'm feeling more myself, which I think is going in the right direction. Thanks for reading and keeping me company on this journey.
I think what you've written here, Rita, is brave and healing. I think it helps us all (sometimes just energetically, if that's not too woo-woo for you) when we can let our hearts be seen, even when there are tears. I think of all the times I've cried in front of people without meaning to (tears often run close to the surface for me) and how profusely I apologize for it, like my true emotions might make them feel awkward or embarrassed. Pish! How much better might we all be if we could be honest about what hurts deep down.
Hugs to you and your family as you navigate these days before your daughter's departure. I can totally empathize! May FaceTime become, against all odds, your open palm, your twisted arm, your long drive home.
Yes! Why do we work so hard to hide our emotions? I think we would all be better off if we could all share our feelings more honestly. I like to think we're getting there.
Thank you for sharing this. I love your essays, even when they are raw with tears and hard to read.
Thank you. Your regard always pleases me.
Beautiful writing Rita xx
Rita, I’m so honored to be included in such a beautiful post. Big hugs to you! So much wisdom and beauty in this piece. Well done!
This post wouldn't be what it is without your writing and sharing! Takes a village to raise a newsletter 😊
Love that 🌸
Oh, Rita, I love and hate this at the same time. I think this is my most favorite thing you've ever written. I am sure I have said this before, and I am certain I will say it again. 😘
You were on my mind while I was writing this one. ❤️🩹
As someone already said, oooofff. It is so damn hard! You want your children to grow and learn and spread their wings and fly the nest and all that jazz. BUT. But then.
It is so lovely that you have had this bonus in-between time with your daughter, what a gift. My eldest is 19 and reluctant to leave home just yet, so I am trying to find the balance between encouraging her to find her way and screaming “don’t gooooooo, just stay home forever!”
It certainly gives me pause to think about the fact that I live fully on the opposite coast of the continent from my own parents, and how that must be for them. I almost can’t think about it.
And then, a few generations back, my great-greats leaving their families back in Ireland and Scotland and travelling to another world, never to see their parents again. It’s a lot of pain to fathom. Which is my long winded way of saying that you are not alone. And I also wish that I had cherished those fast moving blurry moments of such intense physical closeness with my small children, their sweaty little palms, their breath, their world that just encompassed US.
You have a beautiful way of capturing and expressing really BIG feelings that help me feel a little less alone. Thank you for that!
Thanks for keeping me company in this uncomfortable place. It does kinda suck when your kids grow up to be the kind of people you hoped you were raising them to be. 🙃
I have thought many times of my ancestors who left their continent/countries to come to this one; I knew some of them. Even those who just came to the far west coast from the midwest, in a time when travel and communication was so much different. I've been thinking of the family they left behind. When we went to Croatia and saw the small island and small village my great-grandmother left when she was a teenager, my heart ached for her. She had no say in the going. I wish I could ask her how it was for her, to leave a place where she was so known. Maybe she wanted to go, but maybe she didn't. Many others from there came at the same time, and they all settled in Bellingham together. We recognized so many last names in the village's cemetery. And what did it do to those left behind? No one to really know now, as they are all gone.
Yes, lots of pain to fathom. Thank you for validating my complicated feelings about all of this.
When I'd talk to my grandmother on the phone from Norway, she'd say, "I wish you were here. No, I don't, your life is good there." My oldest moved to England at 18 and has stayed. I wish he were here. And I really don't. He's happy. They say grief is the price for love. And not just the grief of death - I'd add - but of distance and the loss of physical proximity. My heart goes out to you.
We are heading out to dinner with friends in a few hours, I probably shouldn't have read this now, lol. First, can I say, lovely lovely writing. I will be subscribing after I press the "post" comment button. I too am struggling with the distance of my children. Your words echo my feelings exactly. I'm not sure how any of this resolves. But I am the eternal optimist, so I'm waiting patiently for some answers. Always nice to connect. Thank you. 💚