Orignial publish date: November 23, 2010
This is from an email my brother forwarded to me in 2006. I don’t know who the author is, but it’s been quoted a million times, and I like it.
Is there a magic cutoff period when offspring become accountable for their own actions? Is there a wonderful moment when parents can become detached spectators in the lives of their children and shrug, “It’s their life,” and feel nothing?
When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital corridor waiting for doctors to put a few stitches in my son’s head. I asked, “When do you stop worrying?” A nurse said, “When they get out of the accident stage.”
My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.
When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how one of my children talked incessantly, disrupted the class, and was headed for a career making license plates. As if to read my mind, a teacher said, “Don’t worry. They all go through this stage, and then you can sit back, relax, and enjoy them.”
My mother listened and said nothing.
When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting for the phone to ring, the cars to come home, the front door to open. A friend said, “They’re just trying to find themselves. In a few years, you can stop worrying. They’ll be adults.”
My mother listened and said nothing.
By the time I was 50, I was sick and tired of being vulnerable, I was still worrying over my children, but there was a new wrinkle. There was nothing I could do about it. But I continued to anguish over their failures, be tormented by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments. My friends said that when my kids got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life.
I wanted to believe that, but I was haunted by my mother’s wan smile and her occasional, “You look pale. Are you all right?” “Call me the minute you get home.” ” Are you depressed about something?”
Can it be that parents are sentenced to a lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another handed down like a torch to blaze the trail of human frailties and the fears of the unknown? Is concern a curse? Or is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest form of life?
One of my children became quite irritable recently, saying to me, “Where were you? I’ve been calling for three days, and no one answered. I was worried!!!”
I smiled a wan smile.
THE TORCH HAD BEEN PASSED!!