Only now, after transplanting my son from home to a campus half a continent away, can I begin to understand what Wilder was talking about. Thinly veiled by these little tasks, things our kids could do with their eyes closed, were two decades of affection, pride, and love. All these dissolved in efforts to be helpful. Wilder was right. It was too much to bear.
Small acts hide torrents of affection.
Sitting on my Minnesota porch and hearing the geese overhead, it occurs to me that the best we parents can do is to submit to this overwhelming force. These migrations are part of our becoming, for our children and for us. The grief of separation brings us to a new season in life, to a deeper understanding of our place on this planet. So you are gone. And we are here, hurting and happy, our sadness affirming our love for you.