Mom,
There she goes. To middle school. To becoming even more of a big kid and who she’s meant to be. To needing me less and more independence. To switching classes, finding lockers, and conversation during passing periods. To middle school– I had to say it again just to believe it myself.
There she goes, my sweet girl. To a new school year and new opportunities.
Oh, mama. There. She. Goes.
And as I watch her get on that bus and head into so much newness, both for her and for me, I need you. I miss you. I want to ask you how it was when the roles were reversed, when you sent me off to middle school full of my own fears, while you held your own. Or did you?
I want to know if you were anxious and conflicted, like I am. If you felt like it was both so beautiful and so bittersweet. I wish I could ask you.
Did you look at the clock like I am? Wondering if she enjoyed her first period and if she made it to her second, without trouble and without stress? Did you look at the clock counting the minutes until lunchtime, praying she’ll find someone she knows, someone she can sit with? Did you feel both excitement and fear? Did you pray fiercely like I am, for her to have both roots and wings?
Oh, mom, you should be here. For her. For me. For this moment.
I’ve never gotten used to the hole that your death created. I never will.
I watched her, my oldest, get on that school bus today and as I got back to the house the tears came. And they were for her, and for me, and for you. They were for all of it. The joy, the excitement, the fear, the unknowns.
And I wish you weren’t missing it all. Dad tells me you’re not, and that you’re here, just in a different capacity. I believe him. I simply wish it were so different than it is.
So, there she goes, Mom! Your first grandchild. Your granddaughter, the one that looks just like you. Off to middle school. Off to new adventures and new memories.
Please be with her. Guide her. Love her. Comfort her, in ways only a grandmother in heaven can do.
There she goes, Mom. There she goes.
xox, Chels
