Holding On

Sixteen. The magical age where kids can learn to drive, the gateway to freedom. Theirs and mine. Having been the family chauffeur for 25 years, I am looking forward to our youngest getting his license and handing over the keys to the car.

No more waiting in cold parking lots at 10pm in the dark of winter. Gone will be the days of rushing out of work to jump into the car to race to the school where I peel in just in time to pick up said child and put pedal to the metal to get back home just in time to turn around for the next activity.

“Go! Go! Go!” “Get your gear together” “Do you have your water bottle?” “No, I don’t know where you put it“. “Hurry up! Dinner is ready!” These are the sounds of a crazy person aka…. a mom.

Food is quickly inhaled. Jump back in the car and we fly down the hill. We’re coming in hot with seconds to spare. The treadmill of my life is running fast. I hold on so I don’t fall off.

Before we get too far, I do need to clarify that the reason I drive so much is because I love an active kid. I am super supportive of school activities and more. I do wish that we lived a little closer so that he could walk. It’s 5km distance between our house and most activities and no public transit. Also, it’s uphill. Tough to carry a hockey bag. I throw on the chauffeur cap and go.

This all will change with the freedom to drive. I delight in images of waving goodbye to fast and furious. Peace and quiet go nicely together over dinner and a glass of white wine. I might even see my husband across the table and remember his name.

To achieve freedom, there is just one thing in the way. Said son (Owen) must learn to drive which means sitting in the driver’s seat, taking the wheel and having control of the gas pedal. I sit in the passenger seat and wonder if today is the day I almost die. I hold on. Letting go isn’t easy.

Here are a few confessions. Owen is our youngest. At sixteen, he seems younger than the other two kids. This is completely not true but, in my eyes, he can’t be old enough to drive. I stall. I let him drive every once in a while. I also put him in drivers’ education which is a two-day course followed by eight hours of labs online. Another stall tactic to him taking the wheel. It’s the struggle to be willing to let go.

Four months have passed. I can’t stall any longer. I only wish it was back to the days where he was learning to bike. Remember those days? You let go and they wobbled down the road and the worst that could happen is scraped knees.

I have not been the best example. I have felt that posted speed limits were more guidelines than rules. Suddenly, being in the passenger seat, 50km per hour (30 mph) feels like warp speed.

We persevere. I try and remain calm. I point out when he might want to be a little more in the middle of the lane, he says he is. There are few instances where because he is learning a stick shift that we stall. I try to yell quietly “FIRST! YOU HAVE TO FIND FIRST”. Not helpful when we are in the middle of the intersection. It’s messy. I try and trust him. He’s not fooled. He notices that while I say, “you’re doing great“, I am clutching the arm rest for dear life. He looks at me. I blush but still hold on.

If I let go, he will be gone. This is the dance that I dread. Keen on freedom but oh how I will miss the moments together. Yes, the shuttle driving is tedious but it also when we connect, when we talk and catch up. For almost a quarter century, I have been the lead role in my children’s lives. I would call myself the “conductor”, they might lean towards the descriptive of “dictator”. Whatever. The point is, I was in the centre of their lives, and I felt useful. Giving them their freedom is letting go and then who am I?

The balance of knowing when to hold on and when to let go is hard and permeates into many crevices of my life. I tend to hold on longer than I should. Letting go often makes my heart break.

I am grateful for digital cameras. I now have a database of moments, visual placeholders of time that allow me to visit over and over again to relive feelings that I never want to forget. When I look at photos of Owen, it’s hard to believe the journey. Those chubby cheeks, bath time rituals, the slow stretching from toddler to teen. The journey of life.

It’s a bittersweet journey. Cheering at milestones that mark the moments that will only lead to the time when he is ready to let go. This is hard. I know I have to let go but there is a part of me that isn’t quite ready.

“You fight to hold on. You fight to let go”

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And it’s not just kids. It’s everything and everyone. Jobs, careers, opportunities friendships, relationships, family and more. It’s the tension of life. A balance of knowing when the tides need to change. Sometimes I time it just right, other times, I miss the window. I often wonder what I have missed by holding on when I should have let go. The same can be said when I have let go and maybe I should have held on. It’s complicated.

If I could wish one thing today it would be that I could turn back time to live more fully in the moments that mattered. I blinked and then it was over. Time marched on. The hand that I held slips away. Our fingertips brush gently. We let go and say goodbye. It’s feelings of grief which feel harder because of how much I love you.

And there it is. The days are long, the years are short. Endings that lead to new beginnings. I regret that sometimes I drove so fast that I missed much of the scenery. I forgot to pack a picnic so that when a beautiful landscape presented itself, I could stop the car and soak it all in. Likely it’s impossible to stop time but perhaps in my next beginning, I can slow it down. Not rush. Really listen. Pay attention. Let the people that I love know that I see them, hear them and value them. If I could do one thing better in this next chapter, I would want the people in my life to feel that I was fully present.

And as I turn the page, maybe there is time and space to check back with those that I thought I lost and let go. Perhaps, we could check in and see if there was a second wind in which we could fly. Let go of what has held us apart.

Here’s to new beginnings, new chapters and believing that it’s never too late to jump.

With love,

Shelley