The Last Bug and A Mama’s Heart

Soon we are scheduled to drop the last kiddo off at college.

I’m sure the house will be quieter. His room might be my new favorite place to be, a place to keep him closer to me—somehow comforting and heartbreaking at the same time. Since he was a baby and throughout his life, our lives have circled around his laughter, his football gear strewn across the floor, his music playing way too loud, his arms wrapping around us in those giant, loving hugs (snug as a bug). And now, just like that, he’s off chasing his own dream.

We are so proud. So, so proud.

Our sweet, kind, thoughtful son, is stepping into the next chapter, and he’s doing it with courage, heart, and fire. He’s worked hard. He’s earned this. And come Saturdays, you better believe we’ll be at every college football game, screaming from the stands, watching our “Bug” take the field in his college football jersey.

But pride and heartbreak can live side by side and mama’s heart is splitting just a little.

There’s an ache I can’t name, tucked somewhere between missing his goofy jokes at dinner and not hearing the fridge slam open at midnight. It’s the ache of knowing this is exactly what we’ve raised him to do and still, it hurts to let go.

He’s our last. The caboose. The youngest. The one who taught us how fast it all goes.

And now, this chapter, this beautiful, messy, loud, full house chapter, is closing.

The joy, the nerves, the sadness, they’re all tangled up right now. But most of all, there’s gratitude. For the privilege of being his mama. For every scraped knee and bedtime story. For every touchdown and every “I love you.” For this moment, standing at the edge of something new, cheering him on as he runs full speed into it.

It won’t be the same without him. But it’s not supposed to be.

He’s growing. He’s becoming.

And I’ll always be his biggest fan.

Go get ‘em, Bug!

We love you more than words.