Brilliant … But Bouncy

Together We Make the Soul.

Dylan is leaving. It is happening now.

The word “stressed” doesn’t cover how we – as a family – have been during the few weeks before Dylan left. Yes, it’s hard. Moving is hard. Leaving is stressful. Change is stressful.

But that wasn’t nearly enough to describe the feeling.

We know we are going to miss Dylan. We know the dynamic in the house will never be the same. Some life is going to be kicked out of our souls because Dylan won’t be here, with all of his enthusiasm for life and music and the world.

While it feels like Dylan is just a big ball of energy most of the time, and that the energy is sometimes misplaced because of the ADHD, this summer brought a realization that Dylan was more than just overzealous energy: he is the energy in the family. Even when he wasn’t home, he evoked strong emotions. And he will still evoke strong emotions – for all of us.

Mostly, Dylan is big and bold and beautiful. He is like a blazing light that shines into the room, making everything sparkle.

When our dog died in December, Dylan called Xena “the soul of our family.” And there was something to that, certainly. Xena brought us together in a way no one else ever will.

But I think all of us play our parts – and together we make the soul. And with Dylan not here, what will become of our family’s soul?

I recognize that he’s not dead, of course. I am thrilled to know that he’ll not only be back, but that we’ll be able to spend time with him on the phone, texting and face-timing, and that we’ll even get to see him in person, in action, on the college campus. I’m excited for him to keep growing into an adult, to live his own life, to be his own person.

And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Dylan is going to be where he belongs, doing what he most needs to do, and becoming an even better person because of it.

But there is going to be a huge hole in our house when he leaves, and nothing else in the world will be able to fill it.

“Sad” isn’t the word for what I feel, and neither is “utter despair.” I’m crying, but it is more for something I have lost than for losing him. I know he’s going to be great, no matter where he lives.

I just feel like I spent my whole youth wishing I had some reason for living, and that when Dylan came along, I found that reason. And Shane completed my reason for living.

I am Mom. It may not be enough for everyone, but parenting is the only thing that ever made me feel whole. And I will still be a parent – but not to my baby Dylan, who – as a toddler – so lovingly bowled me over when he ran into my open, waiting arms.

My arms, though, will be wide open and waiting, if he ever needs to return.