My Children: "When can I Stop Worrying?"

One of the age old questions for all parents!!! It’s the same as when a friend asked me “When do your children sleep through the night?” My answer, “Never! You can be ready for that after midnight call for the rest of your life.” Baby Boomers and those over fifty are experiencing this right now. Our children are, basically, adults and, hopefully, starting to live on their own. We still are curious about what they are thinking as they begin to plan for their lives and wonder how they will live without us. Especially, as we approach retirement , we begin to have more thoughts about the future and what it will look like. We, also, start to want to stay connected to our children, grandchildren and old friends – we have more time for this and are developing a different perspective toward time.
We all have a collection of favorite emails; written by an “unknown” author; but which seems to really connect with us, so we save it. Here is one of mine that I feel really adds some clarity when thinking about children and how involved we actually need to stay in their lives as we watch them create their future and we design our own.

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?” The 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 just smiled faintly 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 trying to find themselves. Don’t worry, in a few years, you can stop worrying. They’ll be adults.” My mother just smiled faintly 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. My mother just smiled faintly and said nothing.
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 warm 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 unknowns? 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 warm smile. The torch has been passed.