Learning to Let Go
As I observe my little sister, a combination of adoration and envy washes over me. After an evening of floating in our pool, my nephew is peacefully sleeping in her arms. You can sense his pleasant contentment without worry or concern. I glance at Jayde, fondly remembering those days. Recalling the moments when her only care in the world was driving her Barbie car around our back yard.
When our children are young, we hold onto them simply because we can. Letting go is a gradual process. I remember the ritual with Brady. Now Jayde being on the verge of eighteen, I find it difficult to believe this is where we are in our journey with her. I realize baby steps are necessary at this juncture. Not just for me, but for her as well. Last weekend she slept over at a friend's house. Around 11:30, I received a text, "I miss you." When she arrived home Sunday afternoon, I received a hug, and an "I missed you" whispered in my ear. It felt good to be missed.
A few weeks ago, Jayde and I discussed her boyfriend, Brett, joining us for IV therapy. My reasoning: if he wants to be a part of her life, he needs to be privy to the good, the bad, and the ugly. Last night I explained to Brett, "Tomorrow, I need you to be a quiet observer. Even on the best of occasions, these days are stressful-we do our best to remain calm." He questions, "Well, what if I see them doing something wrong?" This elicits a laugh from Jayde and me, "That is what I m for. I will handle it." Then Jayde chimes in, "And if she doesn't, then I do."