This is my son Matthew's last night at home before college. I know that this is good news. I feel proud that Matthew will go to a great school. I know that this is the finest hour. But looking at the suitcases on his bed sends me out of the room to a hidden corner where I can't stop crying.
Through the sorrow, I feel embarrassed. "Pull yourself together!" I tell myself. There are parents sending their kids off to battle zones. How dare I feel so shocked and upset?
One of the great gifts of my life has been having my boys, Matthew and John Owen. Through them, I have explored the mysterious, complicated bond between fathers and sons. As my wife and I raised them, I have discovered the love and loss between my father and me. After my parents' divorce, I spent weekends with my dad in Ohio. By the time Sunday came around, I was unable to enjoy the day's activities because I was already afraid of the goodbye of the evening.
Now, standing among Matthew's accumulation of possessions, I realize it's me who has become a boy again. All my sadness and longing to hold on to things are back, sweeping over me as they did when I was a child.
His bed is tidy and spare. It already has the feel of a guest bed. In my mind I replay wrapping him in his favorite blanket. That was our nightly routine until one evening he said, "Daddy, I don't think I need a blanket tonight." I think of all the times we lay among the covers reading. I look at the bed and think of all the recent times I was annoyed at how late he was going to sleep. I'll never have to worry about that again, I realize.
For his part, Matthew has been a rock. He is treating his leaving as just another day at the office. And I'm glad. After all, someone's got to be strong. I'm proud that he is charging into the first chapter of his adult life with such confidence.
