The pain of letting go
[|I leaned against the door and watched him
striding purposefully down the road
away from home, away from me.
Before he turned the corner, he stood
and waved a last farewell.
I saw him through a haze of tears
then turned slowly back into my kitchen.
The remains of our last meal together
were still on the table.
I sat by the fire his hands
had coaxed into life one last time
with sure and gentle movements
that never failed to bring Joseph
back to life for me again.
Joseph from whom our son had learnt
most all he knew of life and work and of the world
but most of all about goodness, honesty and integrity.
Joseph had gone from us these many years.
I missed him still; his strength and steadfastness
had always been like solid walls
keeping me safe from fear and strong
before the awesomeness of being
the mother of God’s Son.
Jesus had done his best to take his place,
growing to manhood suddenly,
working all the harder to provide for us.
And now he too is gone and I am alone
with only memories, the dying embers
and the scrubbed table waiting to be cleared.
Now there was no messenger to ask
for my consent; none was needed.
I knew that letting my son go his own way
responding to the Father’s voice within
was just another part of that first “yes”,
and that it would continue thus,
in joy and pain, in pride and fear
as I watch him move forward
towards the fulfilment of a life that can be
nothing other than total surrender
to Him from whom he came
and to whom he will one day return
And I am lonely for him and fearful too.
But I must continue to live my “yes”
and reach out in faith and trust
to his destiny and mine.
I must let the fire he kindled die down
and clear away the traces of our last meal together.
Tomorrow, I will set and light the fire.
Tomorrow I will eat alone
and listen to the unaccustomed silence.
I will wait in readiness for the next sign
and hold myself open and pray for strength
to embrace his future and mine,
accepting it, a gracious gift
from the Father who claims him
as his beloved Son.|]
[/Mary O’Dea/]