Tootles. That is what my youngest daughter said to me, with her face pressed against my car window, both of us with tears in our eyes as we parted ways in her college parking lot this week. Tootles.

And in that space, that moment of departure from my role as her daily guardian, I saw every version of my daughter. I saw the baby handed to me in the delivery room. I saw the little girl who danced with her Daddy to every song in Dancing with Stars in my living room. 

I saw the mad scientist who made every kind of slime from every kind of glue and glitter. I saw the little entrepreneur who used to put price tags on all our belongings at home and then charge us a fee to use a cup. I saw the little hustler who got in trouble at school for selling homemade lip gloss for $5. 

I saw the little girl who made up new recipes and used the oven with her Nana like she was on a cooking show. I saw the game show host who made up reindeer games that had dollar store prizes for us every Christmas eve.

I saw the little budding athlete who asked her dad for a pink batting helmet and fearlessly joined a rec softball team called the Pink Penguins. I saw the little reckless kid who loved to be on the boat with her Pop Pop and would scream at him from the tube to go faster around the lake. 

I saw every version of her. I saw Anna through my eyes and Erik’s eyes. He was right there beside me. He was gazing over my shoulder at her with pride while I sobbed into my steering wheel. Letting her go was always the plan. That is what we know from the start as parents. Our time with them is temporary. This was my duty to set her free. This was in the contract!

Don’t get me wrong, I felt sorry for myself the entire two hour ride home. So many loving friends and family checked in this week and I knew I wasn’t alone. This is a milestone shared with so many of my friends. A collective grief and intuitive sense of knowing.

So now what? Who am I if I am not actively parenting a child?

I thought it may knock me down but today I decided to just say thank you. I thanked God for the opportunity to be Anna’s mom. I thanked Erik for helping me raise her to be the spunky funshine care bear she turned out to be. And I thanked ME. I said “good job Allison!” 

How often do we stop and thank ourselves? Sounds so stupid. But every single parent out there who launched a kid to college or to a new job or just to the basement…good damn work people. We gave our whole lives to these humans to set them up for success.You did your job.

I love the bible verse that starts with “to everything there is a season…” And if you are my church friend, you know that I don’t know where to find that in the bible and that it is a paraphrase but I still love Jesus and he loves me. 

You have a new season in front of you and it has a purpose. Your life still matters.

I thought when Erik died that I had no reason at all to live. The pain and trauma were just too much to stay conscious for, let alone thrive some day. But it was Anna. My kid in high school had to get up and she needed a healthy parent. No, she deserved a healthy parent.

She was my reason (and her older siblings too) for healing and living. And now somewhat thriving, if you count the bird feeder camera and my recent mahjong lesson.

Now I have to be my own reason. It is my new season to explore and discover a new purpose in my days ahead. My new chapter to write. You can focus on what is no more in your life or you can focus on what life can be now. I am choosing life. I am choosing me. Tootles.