It's a wistful time when children leave, never to fully return

For millions of families, this is the time of year when parents acknowledge their children will leave the nest. They may return, but rarely, very rarely ever again on a full-time basis. Kids go to college, the service, or, for some other reason, leave for good.

So a parent counts on short visits, letters, cards, phone calls and in recent years, e-mail. On a regular basis, no physical touch is possible. Nor is it possible to have the leisure to wander in     your thoughts with your child. "Visits" mean a short return for summer vacations or          holiday trips. To add to the puzzles of life, for some parents and their progeny, the relationship dies forever. Those who shared a household for over two decades, can become strangers in the most subtle, indescribable ways. All of this feeds the illusion that everyone is from everywhere else.

After the Christmas and Hanukkah holidays, I received a card from my favorite professor. Our relationship as teacher-student dates back to the summer of 1962. Last January, I received a card with a picture of his family. He said the delay was due to the fact that for the first time in 11 years, his family was able to get together. The four children were under the same roof for 72 hours. A number of photographs were taken and then they were gone.

 

It reminded me that I have not seen my sister on a regular basis since 1953 or my brother since 1958. We do see each other for reunions, funerals, graduations, marriages and related activities.

Upon reflection, my family and friends (called primary groups by sociologists) are in faraway places.

As I get older, I find that when I am sauntering off to sleep, that it is hard to differentiate between those who have moved away and those who have passed away.

I do not want to idealize this, but I think of the Williams family of Morningside, Sioux City. The six children, now adults, gather together often and have a tradition of trading children for the afternoon after special holidays. Thus, family is important and ongoing.

In our family, we were able to keep our two boys — now men — with us or nearby from their birth to now. After high school, they stayed home and went to Kirkwood Community College for two years and then their last two years at Iowa State University. At the stroke of midnight, 1990, we promised we would stay together as long as possible.

At Christmas, we heard the news: Our youngest would move to San Francisco. For his special computer skills, the Bay City provided the best opportunities. Wife Jennifer and I must have, at some level of  consciousness, started to count the days when he leave. We were constantly reminded of his departure by long-distance job offers and various preparations to get ready for his last day in Iowa.

As the day approached subtle for him to leave, my  mind wandered his childhood: Walking to the school bus to go to alternative kindergarten at what was then Tyler School, enjoying Pac Man and Star Wars,  and drawing pictures in his room at our old house. His favorite television show was "Dr. Max."

When the time came for him to say good-bye, small talk grew sparse. Words were fumbled together. There was more quiet than light. I struggled with "I'll miss you." Reality became a blur. I walked upstairs.

At his age, life has become a new adventure. For mine, it is a journey homeward.

 

Joel Snell is a professor of social sciences at Kirkwood Community College.