Nineteen years ago, my oldest son Jacob and I traveled to South Korea to bring home a baby boy. He was just four months old, bundled up and wide-eyed, and the moment I held him, I knew my life had changed forever. Like each of my children, his arrival did not just fill a space in our home. It expanded my heart in a way I did not know was possible.
From that day forward, I watched him grow into the thoughtful, steady, and determined young man he is today. And now, I am watching him head off to the University of North Florida to study mechanical engineering. Even though he is my fifth child to leave for college, the truth is, it does not get easier.
You would think by now I would be a pro at this. I have done the dorm drop-offs, bought the twin XL sheets, made the Target runs for way too many snacks and storage bins. I have learned that you never, ever pack too many extension cords. But even with all that experience, my heart still aches every time one of my kids drives away or I wave goodbye in a new college parking lot.
It is not just about the change in routine. It is about closing a chapter you have been living for nearly two decades. For eighteen years, you have seen their face almost every day, had dinner conversations, helped them solve problems, and made sure they were okay. And then, all at once, they are grown. They are making their own choices, living their own lives, and hopefully using all those lessons you have spent years trying to teach them.
And that is the point, right? That is what we are supposed to do. Raise them to go live their lives without us right there next to them. It is the goal and the heartbreak all wrapped into one.
Noah’s Journey
Noah’s journey to this moment has been one of determination and growth. He is on the autism spectrum, and from a young age, he has approached the world with his own rhythm, his own way of processing things, and a quiet kind of confidence that inspires me. He is such a good kid, thoughtful, kind, and steady.
This summer, he got a little preview of college life by taking a summer class at UNF. It gave him a taste of independence and a head start on this next chapter, and he loved it. When the time came to prepare for the real thing, he was not nervous. He was excited. He was ready.
That made me realize something. As much as I wanted to cling to the lasts, the last dinner before move-in day, the last grocery run together, the last night with him under our roof, I also needed to embrace the firsts he was about to experience. His first time fully living on his own, his first engineering class. His first time navigating all the ups and downs of college life without me as the safety net just down the hall.
The Fifth Goodbye
With six kids, I have now watched five of them launch into the world. Jacob went to Harvey Mudd. Emma chose Brandeis. Olivia went to Fordham. Ari headed to High Point University. And now, Noah to UNF.
Every single time, it has been bittersweet. When my oldest left, I was completely unprepared for the sadness that came with it. You know it is coming, but knowing and feeling are two very different things. There is this quiet in the house that feels almost too loud at first. You walk by their empty room and your heart sinks. And yet, at the same time, there is this pride. This joy in knowing they are doing exactly what they are supposed to be doing.
The difference now is that with each child, I have learned a little more about what it means to let go. Not just for them, but for me.
One More Year
With Noah gone, there is just one child left at home, my youngest daughter, who is a senior in high school. She is busy with school, friends, a job, and activities, so our house feels almost eerily quiet. After years of a full dinner table, carpool chaos, laundry mountains, and noise in every corner, it is a strange adjustment.
In just one year, she will be off too. And then I could be an empty nester. After raising six children, the idea of a quiet house is both exciting and terrifying. I know there will be new adventures ahead, but it is hard to imagine a life that does not revolve around my kids’ schedules, needs, and energy.
What I Want Other Parents to Know
So many parents have told me they feel lost when their kids leave for college. They do not know what to do with themselves because their lives have been so wrapped up in being “Mom” or “Dad.” I get it. I have lived it. But here is the thing I have learned: letting go is part of raising confident kids.
We spend years teaching them to be independent, to trust themselves, to make good decisions. And then, when it is time for them to actually do that, we have to trust ourselves enough to step back.
It is not easy. You will still worry, you will still check in. You will still feel that pang of missing them when you see their empty chair at dinner. But the greatest gift we can give our kids is the freedom to use what we have taught them without us hovering over their every move.
And here is the part we often forget. The lessons we teach them are ones we can use ourselves. If we have encouraged them to try new things, we can too, if we have taught them to be confident in who they are, we can do the same. If we have told them to chase their dreams, maybe it is time we dust off a few of our own.
Letting go is not just about their growth. It is about ours.
Embracing the Next Chapter
As Noah starts his first semester, I am focusing on gratitude. Grateful for the nineteen years we have had together under the same roof, grateful for the lessons he has taught me about patience, perspective, and seeing the world through a different lens. Grateful for the fact that he is excited about this next step, because that means we have done something right.
I know he will face challenges. I know there will be moments when he calls home stressed, tired, or unsure. But I also know he is equipped to handle it. And when he succeeds, whether it is acing a test, making a new friend, or figuring out how to fix something in his dorm room without YouTube, I will be here, cheering him on from a distance.
That is the beauty of this stage of parenting. You do not stop being their parent, but your role shifts, you are still their biggest supporter, but you are no longer the one steering the ship. You have taught them how to navigate, and now you get to watch them set sail.
For Every Parent in This Season
If you are standing where I am, watching your child pack their bags and step into the next chapter, take a deep breath. Remind yourself of every value you have instilled, every conversation you have had, and every challenge you have helped them navigate. Trust that those things are now part of them.
Then, turn that same advice inward. Try something new. Revisit a dream you set aside. Give yourself permission to grow in the same way you have encouraged your child to grow.
Letting go is not the end of the story. It is simply the start of a new one, for both of you.
