Too soon comes the end of summer...

My son Philip will report to the LDS mission training center on 8 September 2010 to serve a two year full time mission in San Bernardino California. I will miss him. Many people have told me it will be more difficult than I think to be parted from him for two years, with only email contact and two phone calls per year. I'm sure they are right. It will be difficult... but...

Most people I know haven't experienced the death of a child. I know three other women personally who've lost a daughter, as I have lost one to death in childhood. My mother would have made four, but she is gone now.

Knowing your child is parted from you for the duration of mortal existence is painful. There is hope, of course, through the atoning sacrifice of Christ, but death still retains her sting to a degree difficult to bear.

On 9 September it will have been twenty years since my husband carried the small casket in his arms from the country church in Harwood, Texas to the cemetery in the field beyond the church-yard fence. It has been a lifetime to some since we laid her small body beneath the earth in wait for the resurrection. It has been so long and still I miss her; I miss what might have been. I see young women her age and wonder how Heather would look, whether or not we would be best friends and if she would still be living at home while she attended the local college or if she'd be married and living out of state.

All things are relative, you see. Yes, I will miss my very beloved son, Philip. I will miss him. But he and I have a choice in this very temporary parting. We are prepared. We know the exact time of his departure and an estimated time of his return. Knowing and planning and willingly participating in such a choice makes all the difference.

I have no other frame of reference for such things as 'Good-bye' than is afforded me of my life's experiences. What is 'Good-bye' anyway? We say it when we leave for work. We say it when we leave the grandparent's house to come home from summer vacation. Only when we didn't have the chance to say all we wanted before an unexpected good-bye is thrust upon us is it a painful good-bye. An unexpected and early good-bye is nearly unbearable sometimes.

When August is here, we know the summer is drawing to an end. There is time to prepare and make ready. True, it comes sooner than we think, but we know it is coming. It doesn't sneak up on us in the night, like death sometimes does. A well thought out and well planned good-bye is sometimes tearful, but not unbearable. I think my good-bye to Philip will be difficult, but it will certainly not be the most difficult good-bye I've ever had to say.

At the end of this summer I will embrace my fully grown son and look into his eyes and tell him I love him as we say 'good-bye'. I will see into his soul and know, as he looks into mine, that he knows I love him without reservation nor doubt. He will be ready to leave and I will be ready to let him go... though with tears, I'm sure.

I think, mainly, what is the most painful in all of this raising children business is the realization that it will certainly come to an end. My children will all grow up and leave this house. One of these days I will be an old woman with no little children playing dress up and Wii in the other room while I blog. My house will be quiet and I'll remember these, the best days of my life; when all of them were home and needing me more than they will when they're grown.

While the summer lingers, I am enjoying the moment. I'm grateful for the river, Fiesta Texas, the swimming pool, the dollar theater and the back yard fire pit. I'm so grateful for the time the Lord has given me to share my life with those I love. I'm grateful for the lessons learned through early good-byes.

I'm grateful for the days of summer and to know their numbers... though the days of it pass so quickly and the end of it is coming soon.