The grief of an 18-year-old child, the youngest, leaving for college. The relief of that same child being ready, despite their past struggles, to make that leap.
The grief over the new quiet of the empty house. The relief of having so much less to manage.
The grief of the loss of a beloved pet. The relief in knowing they will no longer suffer.
The grief of no longer chasing a lifelong dream. The relief in finally being able to stop running after it.
The grief of seeing our parents age, change, shift and slow down. The relief that our time with them is nowhere near over, with so many more memories still to be made.
The grief of the end of one chapter and the relief of knowing that this end, as trite as it sounds, is necessary in order for us to begin the unwrapped gift that is the next new chapter.
Parenting, inherently, is like riding a pendulum
constantly swinging between grief and relief.
As one phase with our kids ends, the next one starts, sometimes so quickly we don’t even have the chance to mourn the “lasts” that we didn’t even know were happening: the last time they are small enough that you can easily carry them in your arms, the last time they say the full “Mommy” before dropping it forever for the much cooler “Mom”, the last time they call your house their “home”.
And even in these moments of ending, there is a relief at our kids' increased capability, the joy at watching them grow and change and navigate the world with so much more strength and confidence. The relief of not worrying about them sticking their tongues in light sockets anymore (if you didn’t already know, I have boys) or the joy of finally getting to remove all those damn gadgets you put on your kitchen cabinets that keep your kids from accessing the Windex under the sink (again, boys) or the whole-soul-sigh when the door closes and your kids are happily off at school, be it Pre-K, high school or college.
So if you are navigating a season of grief right now, I bet you can find its buddy, relief, hanging out. Try not to judge it and see if you can welcome it, make space for it, and allow it to teach you as well.
Like inhales and exhales, lightness and darkness, yin and yang, these pairs come together for a reason. They are two sides to the same coin and both have so much to teach us.
Grief is the longing for what we have loved;
relief is the wisdom of allowing ourselves to let it go.
Inhale and exhale, they are both needed for a full, deep, life-giving breath.
If grief has moved into your heart for a season, remember that it is a neon sign, telling you that, as Heidi Priebe says, “Love was here” and “still is”.
(And if you happen to speak with the universe, please tell it I wrote my grief/relief piece, so if you could put a word in to take me off the “Smite List”, that would be greatly appreciated.)
