My oldest daughter just moved away a few months ago to the other side of the world. I will see her in July sometime, but I am a mother and I want to hold my child right this minute.
When they were very young and took all of my time and energy, I humorously lamented that I couldn't wait for my kids to get jobs and get out.
Then they started school.
One little taste of that bitter dish was enough to humble me into never kidding around again. Then they started jobs, began traveling, and went to college. More bitter tastes.
But in between, there were millions of sweet moments.
Savoring the moments was serious business and as it turned out, an awful lot of fun.
To this day, I contend the older two were two and three-years-old for ten years.
I still don't miss waking up at 5 am to messes made by two toddlers who seemed to make it their goal in life to operate on as little sleep as possible.
I do miss the way they smelled (most times) and the soft squeaky lilt of their voices when they weren't at each other's throats or whining that bedtime had come yet again.
We marry spouses (generally and preferably) when they are grown people. We aren't faced with and we don't measure who they are today against the memories of having them in our arms as a tiny person, seeing them walk for the first time, going off to kindergarten, or learning to drive.
Be it to divorce or death, we lose our spouses but once.
We lose our children over and over, such that by the time they're really grown, it's not that we don't want to let go of them, it's that we're weary from the many times we've already let them go.