When love looks different

Oh, Mama, that child still loves you. They just love you differently and from a distance.

Sometimes, words are seen by your eyes but felt in your heart. I hope this week’s column touches your heart.

When your child heads off to college, your heart is dragged through the brutal field of not yet; I’m not ready for this, and how did we get here so quickly?

This month, 25 years ago, I drove all those 85 miles to Indiana State University in Terre Haute – it might as well have been 850 miles. My house was quiet. My heart hurt. I missed my Emily.

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Dear Mama,

Your child is headed to college.

I know your heart is struggling. Your emotions are all over the place. You are cheering for the adventure your child is going on. Oh, the places they will go, but you won’t be in the nearby bleachers. You’re going to miss those bleachers.

You long to return to the sweaty, miserable 90º weather when you wished for them to lose the game so you wouldn’t have to return tomorrow and suffer another day in the scorching sun. Oh, how you long for the pain your hind end endured while sitting on those steel bleachers. After six hours, not even the newest cushion was cushy enough.

As they remove their clothes from the closet and drawers, you tell yourself they will be okay. It’s you that you worry about.

With each trip to the SUV, as they clear out their favorite things from their room, you lose a piece of your heart. You wear the prettiest fake smile.

Remember the smell of all those stinky socks? You’re going to miss it. No, you won’t. Now, you can laugh. You need to laugh. Empty nest syndrome isn’t funny.

You question yourself: did you teach them everything they need to know? Will they remember to avoid washing their whites with their favorite red shirt? Will they remember not to walk across campus in the dark by themselves? You order another can of pepper spray from Amazon to have it delivered. Please, Lord, let them remember to carry it.

You find yourself counting the days to fall break and worrying that they will want to go home with a new friend. You need to tell them they are welcome to bring their friend home. You plan for the worst and try to intercept it.

As you walk away, the last hug feels like you are leaving a piece of your heart with them … because you are. Do they know how much you love them? Of course they do.

And Mama, they love you. They may not show it how you want them to, but let them love you how they choose.

Get ready for the unanswered calls. Don’t set yourself up for disappointment. I will tell you that texts will not be returned promptly … or not at all. Promptly, to a college kid, is within a week – if you are lucky.

In those calls and texts, you remind them they are loved. They need the reminder, and they need you – in a different way.

Let them love you in a different way.

When they bring home a back seat full of dirty laundry, do it before they get a chance to do it. Accept the quick “Thanks, Mom” as an “I love you.” They will remember how you loved them.

When they ask you to make their favorite meatloaf and mashed potatoes, know it’s a sign of how you make them feel loved. It’s not just their stomach that gets filled, but their heart.

As our kids grow up, we must learn to love them differently and allow them to love us differently. I think you might need to read that again.

And when you find that stray, stinky sock under their bed, sit there and have a good cry. Those tears are because you loved them well and never thought the time would pass so quickly.

Your tears are the price you pay for loving well. Some say tears are salty, but I think they are pretty sweet. Oh, the sweetness of loving a child well. You may not believe it now, but there is a sweetness in letting them go. After a bit, you will begin to understand.

Listen to them talk about their adventures whenever they are home for a quick visit. You hear the happiness in their voice. You have prepared them for this. The tricky thing is that you weren’t prepared for it. It’s part of how life just gets different … and so does love.

Hang in there, sweet Mama; eventually, your heart will understand. Loving differently isn’t easy, but your love will follow them no matter the distance. And they will love you … it will just look different.

I’m not sure my words will help; however, know you will be okay … eventually. It took a while for me to be OK with Emily being 85 miles away. Ironically, she is now 850 miles away from me near Tampa. I know she loves me, and she knows I love her. It just looks different.

And by the way, I still make meatloaf and mashed potatoes for her and do a few loads of laundry whenever I visit. She loves how I love her.

When love looks different, it’s still love. It just takes some time to get used to it.

Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram (@janethartleonard). Visit janethartleonard.com.