She is the one that kept me up most nights, even before she was born. That should have been my first clue.
I named her for my best friend in jr, high school and my best friend in college, both strong, independent women. Maybe that was where I went off track.
She has always seen things from a unique perspective, and not only did I not discourage that, but I actively supported her creativity. Perhaps that was what set her toward this destination.
In truth, I don't know what happened to cause this overabundance of wanderlust in the Free Spirit, but she is gone now, and I feel as if I will never be whole again.
I knew the empty nest days were coming. The Hubby and I were actually looking forward to them. However, we expected the baby birds to move gradually, one step at a time. The Free Spirit has picked up and moved all the way across the country and I had one week to prepare.
My soul shattered.
It's been almost a week, she reached her destination safely, she has a job, and still I lie awake at night and pray that she comes home. There are places I go where I expect to see her. There are stores I no longer want to shop in and restaurants I no longer want to eat in because those were "her" places and just thinking of going in them again brings on a panic attack. I cannot even look into her room.
My child has not died. She is safe, she calls me frequently (I made her promise to do so), as far as I know she is happy, and she is fulfilling a lifelong dream of seeing something other than the southeastern United States. She assures me that I did a good job. She is fine. I am still broken.
She has always been the one I have worried about the most. Hers is the soul that is easiest to damage, the heart that is easiest to bruise. She feels the most pain and is the most forgiving. Unfortunately, this means she is also the most easily led and the least discerning. Everyone is a friend and all causes are equally worthy. Her capacity to love and forgive is so great that she terrifies me, and I continue to lie awake at night and pray.
I know this is the natural order of life. Children grow up and move away. I did and I'm sure my mother went through a similar experience. However, I didn't move an entire continent away, and I left three siblings still at home behind me. If need be, I can be back in two hours or less. If the Free Spirit needs me, it would be untold hours before I could get there and that's assuming there is an available flight. It would be days if I had to drive. The problem is, I know she needs me.
I need her.
The Hubby tells me all will be well. I know that he is, technically, correct. But for now, it is not. My world feels irreparably broken. There is a piece of my life that is missing that I cannot get back. And it hurts so incredibly much that I want to spend my days screaming.
I now understand why the ancient peoples tore their clothes and sat in sackcloth and ashes.
But I can't. So I go through the days, doing what has to be done, getting through it day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, pretending to be okay like people usually do, encouraging her when she calls, taking care of the siblings she left behind, and managing one deep breath at a time.
I doubt I'll ever sleep again.
