Getting ready

Less than a month to go for our trip but not spending much time this week thinking about it. We’ve already chosen our luggage, weighed it and I’ve packed and unpacked twice trying to decide what stays and what goes. I have a list started that lists “Needs” and “Wants”. When we come to the wire, the “Needs” go into the suitcase and, depending on the room and weight left over, I’ll have to prioritize my “Wants.”

But this week another event has superceded all thoughts of leaving. In four more days, my son is getting married. I love the woman he’s chosen to be his wife – she’s a true sweetheart. That doesn’t mean I don’t mourn the departure of my son, however. He moved out of the house eight months ago, so I’ve had some time to adjust, but there’s a permanence about a marriage ceremony that puts a period on his childhood. And that gives me bittersweet feelings.

Bitter because he’s left us. No, bitter is too strong a word. Sad. Melancholy. Both of those are better words. After being a huge part of our lives, day in, day out for two decades, his presence in the house is gone. I’m not picking up after him, or nagging him to do anything, nor am I getting a daily hug or a quick, “Love you, Mom” as he heads out the door. We don’t share music anymore, he doesn’t fill me in on the latest games I should be playing or how his favorite League of Legends team is doing in the finals.

Sweet because I know we did a good job. Like most parents, we screwed up sometimes but, in the end, he turned out to be a good man. Yes, I used the word man. He hasn’t been a boy for quite some time and I’m proud of the man he’s become. His soon-to-be wife is getting a wonderful, caring, loving human being and I take just a little of the credit for that.

So the trip has taken a back seat this week as life gets turned on its head in a very happy way. I celebrate the addition to the family and am thrilled to the very core of my being that he found a woman who loves him as much as we do.

And, if I’m very, very lucky, I might even be ready by Sunday to give him away.

Play safe,

Diana