It was a steamy hot and humid day. The air was heavy making it difficult to breathe through the masks that adorned our faces and also served to mask the pain of releasing our daughter into the world. We were moving her into her college dorm room to the school of her dreams. The mood was a mix of excitement and angst- joy and dread. As the day drew on into night, the sky turned into the deepest black and was void of any stars. Time drew out like a flame and I wanted desperately to slow down each second and turn them into hours instead. I sensed that dark night that my…”count of enchanted objects had diminished by one.”

Being on the yard at “The Mecca” Howard University was a magical feeling. Despite the stifling heat and steep rolling hills, that will challenge even a runner’s calves- the majesty of the urban campus and the vibrance of the city was electric. The murals on the brick buildings seem to come alive if you happen to stare at them a tad bit too long with a narrow glance. I sat in the passenger seat gaping out the window like a child whose dream was finally coming true while simultaneously realizing that this had also been a dream deferred. My heart was full of joy for all the wonderful experiences my daughter would have at this highly esteemed university, but the totality of her absence from my everyday world had yet to set into my spirit.

The drive back home stood in stark contrast to the drive to D.C. The energy had shifted from anticipation initially to a sense of loss going home. As the hours marched on, I began to feel numb- devoid of any feelings. Even the drive through the beautiful mountains in the northeast didn’t pull me out of the funk that had begun to blanket me like a thick fog. The usual chatter box that I am turned silent. Grief had found me no matter how hard I tried to elude her. She grabbed me and pulled me inside the darkness that mirrored the sky from the night we left our daughter behind.

Our last hour of the long drive is where Grief decided to allow me to have some emotion and her name was Sadness. Driving into Peoria now felt haunting without baby girl in tow. I can’t describe the deep pain that my heart felt. It was as if someone had hit me with a sledgehammer dead center in the heart. I was driving and the tears fell onto the steering wheel like rain falling from the sky. My baby was gone. Both of my children are now gone on their own. Even though we spend 18 years or longer preparing them to make their wings as strong as possible to one day fly away- this mama bird knew her nest would never be the same.

As each day passes, I begin to understand that I did my job and I did it well. This was always the goal. My role in my children’s life may have changed, but the love only grows stronger. Leon Brown says, “Understand that you own nothing. Everything that surrounds you is temporary; only the love in your heart will last forever.” We don’t own our children. God lends them to us for awhile. And however long that time is…. love with your whole heart and be grateful! Like the heavy air that day we dropped her off, I remembered a quote that says, “Energies become heavier right before they release. It’s easier to let go of what’s hard to hold.” Let go and let GOD!

Speaking Frankly,

Janay Frank