Commentary : ‘What Will You Take With You’?

You’re gone now. Your gray car is just a speck as you speed away into adulthood. The moment I dreaded is here: I must untie the strings so that you can be free. I can’t hold you back--I won’t even try. Now my mothering instinct must be stilled while I wait to see what kind of bird you are.

Although you are gone, my nest is not empty. There is another child waiting with impatient wings for her chance to fly.

Recalling moments of joy and sorrow, I question the ghostly form that stands before me: “What will you take with you? Will your memories of childhood be bright, or will you remember the shadows I could not erase? Will you be kind as you look back? Will you forgive my imperfections and inexperience?”

As a child, and later as an adolescent, you discovered some sense of your identity. Contacts with your friends, teachers and family have further shaped your sense of values and responsibilities. You are a composite of our experiences together as a family unit, and I share the responsibility of your creation. Whatever you choose as you spread your wings to fly, I know it will be hard. What will you take with you? What will you discard?

Peering into the darkened room where your fragrance still lingers, my eyes search for some trace of your personality. Slow to smile, yet you kept your tears inside. Our personalities, different as night and day, often clashed. Picking up a tattered green and gold pompon, I see you in a tiny high school band uniform marching to a drum I never understood.

Searching for other clues, I find your blue patch from a Girl Scout camp-out. Shivering in the 20-degree desert, we had huddled together for warmth, and I chuckle as I recall how our icy toes touched the next morning.

I still have the movies from your first beauty contest. Just 3 years old and you were a red-haired princess for a day. We lived in apartments, but I eventually bought a house. When I ask you where was home, what will you say? Some say home is where the heart is, and in our changing world that must be true.

Time, our relentless and ruthless enemy, robbed us of a normal life. Fighting for my life through numerous hospitalizations and surgeries, I was preoccupied with a nameless dread, and each new crisis brought the unshakeable fear that I might not be back. My frightened child, I tried so hard to be strong for you.

Although there were many difficult times, I choose to remember the best. In my memory bank I carry thousands of tiny pictures of the beautiful daughter who has enriched my life and brought me so much joy.

You were an inspiration and a delicate personality that I helped to shape and form. Regardless of the pictures you carry with you as you race toward your destiny, I know we share a bond that only a mother and daughter can understand.

It’s time to let you go. You are precious to me and always have been. I’ll wait for you to call. My tears are dry now, and I brush away the salty tracks. This moment of realization is difficult. Memories crowd the picture I wished to paint for you.

Instead of making the happy home I wanted, divorce and ill health drove me into the working world and out of your day-to-day existence. Although your life was not the perfect one I would have chosen for you, I hope you know it was the best I could offer. Although we have had too little time together, I look forward to sharing your tomorrow.

The warm silence in the room reminds me that I forgot to ask you as you were leaving: “What will you take with you, my child? What did you leave behind?”