The Guilt Free Goodbye

Ben Affleck and his pals showed me how to let my grown child go.

I wouldn’t say he’s a parenting guru in real life, but a few years ago I watched the movie The Tender Bar.

It’s the story of JR, a boy without a father, who grows up around a bar that is owned by his uncle Charlie played by Ben Affleck.  The story starts when JR is a young boy, and we get to watch him grow up under the strong influence of his caring uncle.   

At the end of the movie (spoiler), JR is all grown up. Uncle Charlie tosses him the keys to his car. The car is a symbol of manhood and a means for JR to physically escape his past.

He says to JR, “Get outta here.”

And the other bar buddies yell “And never come back!”

That line is a love letter in four words, meaning we believe in you, and we want you to go make a better life for yourself. Don’t stay here. They are giving him permission to go, and JR knows they will always have his back. 

It really made me think about my feelings about letting my own children go.  It has felt like such a cruel trick of life to love them and take care of them for 18-plus years and then have them leave me. 

But my goal as a parent really is to say “Get outta here!” with pride, and loving support. Even if my heart is breaking.

Fast forward to a few months later when we dropped my son off at college. I saw so many moms sobbing, hugging their children for dear life.

We made ten trips from the car to my son’s dorm room and it was time to say goodbye.

I choked back the words, “Call me every day. Don’t forget about me.”

I did not say them.

His journey is to leave me and mine is to let him go without guilt.

I gave him a little pep talk and told him that he is strong and capable. I told him that I love him more than he could ever know and that it has been a joy and a privilege to be his mother.  

Instead of crying on his shoulder, I hugged him, kissed his cheek, and walked away. I misted up for sure but it was no sad, dramatic scene. It wasn’t about me. It was about him.

On the drive home, I called my own mother and cried. Because she gets it.

If I overwhelm my kids with my feelings of loss and grief, then I am taking away from their brave journey into the rest of their lives. THEIR lives.

I’d rather say, “I love you…now get outta here” with a smile.

I want my children to look forward, not back.

So goodbye, my sweet child. 

Of course, the door is always open, and your room will be just as you left it. 

But my baggage will not be tossed into your car when you go.