We’ve both worked hard, probably too hard, to raise a great family. Our kids are awesome, each different and special, reflecting the love and hard work we both poured into them. You are a wonderful mother.
We’re both feeling proud and sad and happy and scared as each of our babies now steps out on their own, but we can both also share a deep sense of satisfaction knowing we raised them well, and knowing we are there for them unconditionally and always.
These past few years have been hard on you, and watching them be hard on you, has been hard on me. I’m a fixer, a problem solver, a Band-Aid it, kiss it and make it better guy. I would give anything to swoop you up and kiss away the monsters under your bed, or punch your name-calling bullies in the nose for you, but these are not bugaboos and name-calling burdens you’ve been handed.
These are problems I cannot solve. But they will pass, and I will be here with you while they do.
I am very proud of the way you have grown and matured in the face of the losses, hurts, and fears life has thrown at you. You have refused to let others define you. You have refused to stop being yourself. You have refused to stop putting others first despite the personal cost. All this is more than only a very few would be capable of doing. Throughout the worst, you remain strong and kind and good. I am proud to stand at your side as the storm passes.
I know you are anxious about the looming changes in our lives. I’m nervous, too. I believe we are entering a wonderful and exciting new phase of ‘us’ that may prove to be the best times of our lives. We had only a brief (but wonderful and very exciting) time alone together before the whirlwind of parenting hit. Make no mistake. I love our family, but through almost three wonderful and exciting ‘kid’ decades, I have selfishly dreamed about having you to myself again. Now it’s my turn.
I loved you at first sight, have loved you every second since, and I will love you with my last breath, but not yet…until then…