It’s See You Later, Not Goodbye

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Its See You Later, Not Goodbye | Duluth Moms Blog

I said goodbye to my baby boy the last week of November, as he took his oath for the United States Marine Corps. His whole childhood flashed through my mind, right there in the MEPS office. My sweet little preemie who spent the first two weeks of his life in the NICU, is now a 6’5″ 19-year old young man. A young man who decided early on that he was going to serve the country he loves by becoming a Marine. My chubby cheeked two-year old son with the Harry Potter-like glasses, is now being screamed at by a drill instructor and is owned by Uncle Sam for at least the next four years. My son looked at me the day he left and told me he loved me. His exact words were, “I love you, ma. I gotta go.” I hugged him one more time as hard as I could, told him I would pray for him, then left quickly for the sanctuary of my car where I could sob as loud as I wanted to. My tears were tears of pride, as I witnessed my son making the most important decision of his life so far.

I can remember the day he was born. My husband was working as the city’s fire inspector and was home nights and weekends. A huge difference from the regular shift of a firefighter when he was gone for at least 24 hours at a time and not home every evening. My hubby got up to go to work that morning, to teach a class in Duluth. We lived out in the country at the time and at least a half hour from the hospital. I had just been released from the hospital the day before, as I was on bed rest and having complications with my pregnancy.  

Fast forward that morning to the quick ride we took to the hospital, a frantic nurse yelling for a doctor, an unplanned cesarean section, and the moment they showed me my son. For a fraction of a second, I was able to set my eyes on him. I was in love all over again with another tiny human. He was lifeless, not breathing on his own, and whisked away to the NICU.  

Over the next 19 years, my little tiny preemie of a baby would grow into a thoughtful, kind, funny, tall, healthy young man. A young man that I myself would want to be friends with, to hang out with, to confide in. My quiet introverted son grew into a man in the blink of an eye. And now there he was, promising his life, heart, and devotion to the Marines. My heart swelled with a feeling of pride that I have never known.  

As parents, we have the luxury of knowing where our children are at all times with the technology that is around today. There are actual apps that you can put on your child’s smart phone and see where they are at all times. I’ve always been comforted by the fact that my kids would wake me up when they got home late, or called. I haven’t heard my son’s voice in weeks now, but must trust that he is OK. He is doing something that many men have done before him. It’s hard to let our children go when we are watching them go into the unknown.  

Christmas has come and gone, but not without tears. I am certain that my son is home some days. Our yellow lab, Vinny, has gotten used to being called Ben. I swear my car isn’t out in the driveway because Ben is using it. I’ve even gone so far as to check the table by the TV to make sure that he has put his dishes away. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. Not to mention a few snacks in between! OK, so I don’t miss that! To have an active role in my children’s lives for the past 22 years, and then all of a sudden they are both gone, is not easy for me. My husband, John, is very understanding. He sat down with me on Christmas after I had been overcome with sadness when I did not get a phone call that evening from our Marine recruit.  John told me what I already knew. This is how life is supposed to be! We start our families, raise our children, make as many memories as possible and then look off from afar at their lives that they are living. Hands off. No more helicopter mom.  

When my son turned from me that day and said, “I love you, ma. I gotta go,” I told him, “See ya later.” I didn’t want to say good bye. I tried to hold back my tears and be brave. For both of us. Because in a second, he went from being a boy to a man. See you later, Ben. I have never been more proud of anyone in my life.

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Cheryl Wisneski
Cheryl is a born and raised Minnesotan that married her college sweetheart 20 years ago. She is the mom of a beautiful and stubborn 22 year old daughter, a handsome and headstrong 19 year old son, and Vinny, the four legged king of the house. She recently started a furniture refurbishing business, hoppingwren.com, that occupies her time immensely and keeps her from dwelling on the fact that she and her hubby are on the verge of becoming empty nesters. A self proclaimed introverted extrovert, helicopter mom and clean freak, Cheryl is happiest when she has a paint brush in her hand, a chilled glass of chardonnay in the evening, and her family all present around the dinner table. She loves holding her husband's hand, Lake Superior, and the Pacific Northwest. Cheryl has a tendency to name the furniture she paints, over analyze everything, and carry on conversations with her yellow lab, Vinny. She is looking forward to helping her daughter plan her wedding and seeing her son graduate from the Marine Corps in the spring.

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