PenPenWrites

When our children first leave home–for college, on their first steps toward finding a career–we realize the parenting isn't over. We may not be in control, but we're a very active guidance system, back-up and safety net. We're there to encourage, share the wisdom of our experience and, if we can, lend money to get them through some of the start-up gaps. As they move along toward independence, we may be asked to give final approval on the house they want to buy or be the reassuring voice when career decisions have to be made. The parenting never ends, we tell ourselves. And yet it does. A friend, who just returned from a visit to his grown son and the son's growing family, writes:

'My son has been successful in building a career and in his personal life. He's got a good family–my grandchildren are great; he's got a supportive wife and a nice house. They're a very close-knit family–they love each other and some of them love us, too.  But my son doesn't need us anymore. His life is so intense–his career, the kids soccer and school, his wife's career–and absorbing that we are a side light. They're happy to see us. They were welcoming on this visit. But we're an adjunct, and it's painful.

I think back to when I was my son's age. I was driven to succeed. I didn't call my father as often as I should have. I loved him–he was my hero–but I didn't make efforts to keep him in my life. So I shouldn't be sur[prised that now my son is doing the same thing. It's great to see how inter-connected his family is and how well he's doing. But the visits are bittersweet."

In her book, "Walking on Eggshells," author Jane Isay notes that "understanding intellectually that we are no longer at the center of our children's lives is one thing, but in our hearts our children are still primary. So when things are not the way we dreamed, we blame ourselves." 

In other words, we may understand intellectually that we are no longer at the center of our children's lives, but the reality of it is a splash of cold water–right in the choppers. It doesn't mean they love us less. They just have other people (a spouse) they are confiding in now; someone else they look to for advice. That's as it should be. It may even be a sign that we've done a good job in bringing them up. But, still, we feel less important. "I feel irrelevant," another friend told me after a week-long visit with both his grown sons and their families.

That's how many of our parents felt, too. They probably didn't get over it. We won't either. But life goes on, and so does our relationship with our grown child.