Letting Go #3

Today I dropped him at the airport to fly off to Israel, which requires a whole new level of letting go.  I remembered the first time I experienced this as he rode off on horseback on a Mexican vacation; in fact, I blogged about it in 2009 on the occasion of another letting go moment:
"Let him go, let him go, let him go.

Physically, I did.  Mentally, not so much.

Just before midnight, Diver joined a crowd of other teens waiting to board a bus at a satellite YMCA site in the city.  

Bye!  Have fun!

Not even a backward glance.  We'd already had our talk about the right way to behave, not getting drunk on sugar and pop, who to turn to for help. 

I remembered the first time I waved him off alone.  We were on Stone Island in Mexico, and he went horseback riding with a group.  I don't ride.  I grimace and worry, so I waved him off through gritted teeth and angst'd for the next hour.

Which is pretty much what I did last night.  Nine hours have passed and I am so tempted to call the youth leader on her cell.

Then I remember all the things he has successfully navigated.  Snorkeling, scuba diving, diving boards, flying, skiing, customs, bar mitzvah parties; things I could never do, not just alone, but ever.

So he can do this trip.  Even if the phone rings right now, with the cry  "Help.  Come get me!"; calls I used to get a lot, he's already succeeded.  He got on the bus alone last night and journeyed to an unknown world.  He'll come back stronger and more confident.

Maybe I will, too. "

I'm glad I revisited this, because it's the same thing: letting go.  So he can do this trip.  He's journeying to an unknown world, and he'll come back stronger and more confident. I believe I will, too.