This Sunday, my younger son is graduating from high school.
A couple of days ago, his older brother received his associate’s degree from college. Two sons, two milestones, just like that. It feels like the universe is pulling the rug from under my feet and wrapping me in a warm hug at the same time. I’m overwhelmed — proud beyond words, and selfishly, quietly devastated.
Because this chapter is closing.
And I’m not sure I was ready.
My boys are 22 and (almost) 18. They are still at home with me — and yet, I can feel their wings stretching. I know it’s what we raise them for. I know it’s good. I’ve done my job, I think. But lately, I keep catching myself thinking: No one needs me the way they used to.
That kind of realization hits you like a train and leaves you sitting there with tears you don’t want them to see. Because I don’t want them to think I’m not happy. I am. I’m so happy I could burst. I’m so proud I could scream it from rooftops. But I’m also grieving. Quietly. Selfishly. Deeply.
I still feel like the same person I was a decade ago — the one packing school lunches, tying shoes, stepping on Legos, staying up with fevers. That version of me is still here, but time is not. Time has run. Raced. Flown. And now it’s whispering: You’re entering a new phase.
And I don’t know what this phase looks like.
This year has been a whirlwind. Everything feels like it’s shifting all at once. And I don’t know how to slow any of it down.
I want to press pause, just for a moment. I want to memorize the sound of their laughter echoing down the hallway, the feeling of their backpacks dropped carelessly by the door, the way the house still feels full. Because someday soon, it might not.
I know I’m not alone in this feeling. I know other parents have walked this road. But right now, I feel like I’m balancing on the edge of something — between pride and grief, between holding on and letting go.
I don’t know what to do with all this emotion. So I’m writing it down.
Maybe that’s enough for today.
To my sons: you are the best thing I’ve ever done. You are the chapters I’ll read over and over again, even when the book has moved on. And no matter how grown you are, I’ll always be here — cheering you on, holding you in my heart, and maybe, just maybe, missing the days when your biggest worry was which superhero shirt to wear. Batman! It was always Batman!
Change is hard, but it’s also the quiet beginning of something new. And maybe, just maybe, that’s where the next beautiful story starts.
Here’s to the days ahead — uncertain, surprising, and full of love. We’ll figure it out as we go.
Author Sanela Ramic Jurich