This weekend, I felt a surge of relief as my son returned home from university. His absence had left a palpable void, and while I had anticipated his departure, the reality of it unfolded in unexpected ways, leading me on a journey of grief shaped by love and hope.

Love and grief are intrinsically linked—a truth I’ve come to accept in my life. Even after losing both of my parents, I grapple with the complexities of these emotions. Loss manifests itself in various forms, and while time offers some consolation, the aching sorrow that accompanies a significant change never fully dissipates.

This past fall marked a pivotal moment for our family: our first-born was all set to transition into adulthood by heading off to university. An experience that should be filled with excitement was fraught with a heaviness I hadn’t anticipated. Watching a child venture out into the world is reminiscent of witnessing the slow decline of an elderly parent. The eventuality of it all creates an anticipatory grief, a sense that the landscape of our family is about to change forever.

Choosing the right university was an emotional rollercoaster. Multiple campus tours revealed options that fell short of our hopes; none resonated with him until we stumbled upon the perfect fit. It was electrifying—the university felt like a tailored suit, crafted to fit his interests, abilities, and dreams. I remember feeling a mix of pride and trepidation as I began to understand: this institution, located 150 kilometers away, felt like home to him in a way our proximity never could.

To my husband and me, it felt akin to receiving a terminal diagnosis—not of a disease, but of a new phase of life. Our son was stepping firmly into adulthood, something we’d long anticipated but could never fully prepare for. As I reflected on his journey, I felt an overwhelming sense of loss, mingled with excitement. I knew that, despite my sorrow, he was embarking on an incredible adventure, and my pride in him was enormous.

When he finally left, it elicited an emotional storm. People often minimize this type of grief, suggesting it’s merely a part of growing up. While that may be true, the pain of separation is still profoundly real. This transition isn’t easy; it creates a tangible gap in our family dynamic. In a moment of vulnerability, my younger son shared, 'I just didn’t know time would move so fast.' His innocent observation encapsulated the essence of our feelings.

Yet this grief is offset by hope; the connections we maintain over the digital realm through nightly online gaming have reassured me that our family bond remains steadfast, regardless of physical distance. The void left by his absence was formidable, but the normalization of this new routine gradually took hold, allowing joy to interweave with sorrow.

Our son’s return home for Thanksgiving will be a balm, briefly mending the emotional fissures within our family. However, I know that his journey into adulthood is ongoing—it is a process that reshapes our family identity while nurturing his independence. His life experiences will inevitably ripple out, impacting his siblings just as they did him.

Embracing the intricacies of grief has become part of my educational journey. If it means learning to cope with the pain intrinsic to love and connection, then I am willing to navigate this terrain. After all, this emotional journey, borne of profound love, makes every moment worthwhile—even the sad ones. As I reflect on both the heartache and pride I feel, it is clear: growing up—as challenging and painful as it may be—also opens the door to new layers of love and understanding.