Milestones without your parents

In the fall I turn 40. Big son graduates kindergarten. Little son passed his “milk challenge” (it’s an allergy thing- and it’s a big deal to us).

The big days- those that I want to mark with clean outfits and all CAPS on my Google calendar - those days always have a few minutes of sadness. I miss my parents on the little days too. But those milestones just underline the loss. I don’t have grandparents that I could invite to come be as proud of my boy as I am. My side of the family won’t be there to take pictures and cheer. And I’m left wondering- would they have bought a present for my boy? Or a practical donation to his “college fund”? Would they have thought it was funny that he picked the Cheesecake Factory as his celebration dinner spot and then realized he doesn’t like cheesecake?

Post Cheesecake factory dance with Captain America.

It’s deep, this loss. It’s not just these big days, and it’s not just my loss. A pipe on the side of the house broke. And my handy husband is trying to fix it. It’s already involved YouTube and two trips to the hardware store, so I know it’s sure to be a success. Dad would have loved to have done this project with Mario. He would have been fascinated by every detail. He would have packed a bag of tools “just in case”, hoping that he could be useful or have the right thing at just the right moment.

At graduation I was surrounded by teary parents. The ones I stared at the most were the ones flanked by sets of grandparents. I see how beautiful that is. I remember that feeling- the one you get when you are an adult sitting next to your parent and knowing that they are proud of you. And I know how lucky I am to have had two parents that got teary watching their adult daughter graduate from grad school. I still remember how proud Dad was that he got my oldest to smile his first big smile. I remember what it was like to bring my child home to visit my then alive and functioning parents. I remember how I just wanted to show them everything he could do (poo, smile and eat- he was only 8 weeks old). I am so thankful for that time. And I am mad that they didn’t get to see my boys grow up. Dominic’s curiosity and interest in absolutely everything you want to tell him about is all Dad. And Felix’s love of repeating the same joke and watching your face to see how you react- Dad would be so proud.

Here is what I have learned:

Plan for the hurt. Give yourself time on a special day to be sad- a walk alone, a phone call with a friend, time to write some mushy cards to those that have supported you.

My planned mother’s day. A week after the calendar one. Planned so we can handle the crazy dynamics of the day and then have special, marked time that is different and distinct.

Text your friends and tell them it’s a hard day. They can’t support you if they don’t know.

Plan your own celebrations. Who do you want there? Siblings? Aunts and Uncles? Neighbors? Friends? I have had multiple birthday parties for myself and I’m already planning the next ones! It helps A LOT.

Tell your story- tell the people around you about the people that are missing. Get chocolate cake for your work on your own birthday and be vulnerable enough to tell them that this is what your family always did for birthdays. At the birthday party you planned for yourself, tell your group why it was important to get them together.

In case you were wondering, my kindergartener rocked it on the violin. I know his Grandma and Grandpa would have been as amazed as I was.

“What song was that buddy?” “Oh, that was plink plunk.”