3 years ago I stood in the Tulsa airport and watched Kjell go through security. He had chosen to report to his first day of Indoc (basic training) by himself. It was all I could do not to run after him, pull him close and refuse to let him go. Refuse to let him grow.
Things are different with Broder. He isn’t leaving me. He is staying in Tulsa and going to school there.
He isn’t leaving me. But I am leaving him. And it is killing me.
Last night, after a magical few days in Minnesota, we made it back to Tulsa. We unloaded the truck and after a little bit, decided to make a run to Walgreens.
And Broder’s car wouldn’t start.
I lost it.
I yelled at him for pulling into the driveway, rather than backing in (thus making a jump or tow easier).
I yelled at him for thinking he could do this all on his own.
I yelled at him for all the things I was afraid of.
For all the things I am still afraid of:
That he will do it. Without me. That he doesn’t need me.
And in all of this:
I am so proud of my Broder. He has chosen a path I never would have expected. A path that looks different than most of his peers. It hasn’t been easy getting here.
This morning I put a new battery in Broder’s car.
This afternoon I hugged Broder so hard. I reminded him to check the oil in the Saab. I told him to make good choices.
He told me he loved me. That he would miss me.
That he would be ok.
I hopped in the truck, waved goodbye to Broder and his sweet pup, Darla.
And cried most of the way to Texas.