By Cyrece Dyoni 
When I first became a mother, I never wanted to leave our firstborn, ever. True story: the first time my husband and I went for a dinner out, we ate as fast as we could, only talked about the baby, and wondered why we had left him with a sitter. We rushed back in 45 minutes, much to the sitter’s surprise. She looked stunned and thought to herself, “These people have to get a life!” That was the first goodbye, and now that our boys are in their 20s, the number of goodbyes keeps piling up.
Saying goodbye is one of the hardest things to do as a parent—first day of drop-off to preschool, then kindergarten, camp, college, and so on. I would go about my day, awaiting their return on the bus or in the pick-up line to get that exuberant “HI MOM” that I felt as though my heart would burst out of my chest. Only to repeat the next goodbye in the morning.
Why are those goodbyes so darn hard? You know they’re coming back, and you get your errands done and finish work to rush back to greet them as if nothing else in life is as essential as they are, and quite honestly, nothing is. Even at the age my boys are now, there’s nothing more fulfilling than seeing them and welcoming them back into their childhood home, a place that’s safe and filled with love. But even now, after one has graduated from college and the other is still in, I feel myself gearing up for the dreadful goodbye at the end of August, which can easily consume me and ruin my summer. I’ve done the big goodbyes multiple times, the move-ins and the move-outs; you’d think, “Hey, I got this!” but with each transition comes the thought of fewer and farther between “Hi, Mom” and way more time after that goodbye, not knowing exactly when you’ll see them again.
They’re carving out their path and doing exactly what you hope your kids will do: adulting and having relationships, all good stuff. Still, it’s turning into a “long goodbye,” especially if your children live hours away and seeing them takes more time. The schedules don’t work to find dates, and before you know it, your little people who just went to school and back every day, or to sports practice and back, start to wean themselves away from us, and what’s left? The goodbye hole.
I find myself wanting to create the next phase of my life near them, so instead of saying goodbye, I can say, “See you later,” and walk a few doors down the street. I know this isn’t realistic, chasing your kids around the globe, but when you’ve loved them, raised them, fed them, and breathed them into your soul, the long goodbye sucks, and learning to adjust isn’t easy.
Raising kids, for the most part, is an 18-year assignment at home, but it doesn’t suddenly just stop once they’ve said goodbye and moved out. The calls still come, and you guessed it, after the advice has finished flowing, we’re back at that dreaded goodbye. It’s not just in person, either; over the phone hurts my heart just as much. The only solace in a telephone goodbye is that you can pick up and talk multiple times a day; you don’t have to travel to hear their voice, and with FaceTime and Zoom, I feel more connected.
Now I understand so much more of what my parents felt every time I came home for a visit. Their anticipation and preparation began weeks before my arrival, as they bought all the foods I loved and prepared my childhood room to provide all the comforts of home. I find myself doing exactly as they did, making sure my boys feel nothing has changed. What they love most about home is the status quo and the ability to seamlessly integrate back into a routine that comes naturally to them.
Some goodbyes have become easier as time passes, or perhaps because I’m just getting used to them, but I’ll never truly become accustomed to them. Hello is much more exciting and exudes joy over that dreaded goodbye. My goal in life is to ensure that every hello counts and matters, and that it fills my heart long enough to hold me together while I await the next goodbye—because I know it’s coming.
by Brea Schmidt 
by Kelly Richardson 
