Sam sits his last exam this morning. Then it's over. His school days are at an end. The end of uniform. The end of school dinners. The end of the school bus. The end of seeing his friends every day. The end of what he has been familiar with for five years.
Sam is like me at that age. Hating endings. Scared of beginnings. What will happen to me now? How will I ever start again, in a new place with new faces?
He was stood waiting to leave this morning. He looked sad. "I don't like to see you so sad, Sam." As a mother there is that deep within urge to make everything alright for our kids. To make sure that they are happy. All. The. Time.
It's a harsh realisation - you know the one. That you can't make them happy. You can create a happy space around them, but you can't make them be happy. That's the truth. It hurts knowing this. Knowing that they will trip and stumble through their life. They will experience happiness. And sadness.
And even knowing that you need the sad to appreciate the happy. And even knowing that deep gut wrenching sadness is a part of the tapestry of our lives. Knowing that the thread of sadness weaves it's way through our life experiences. Even knowing all that, I still want to protect my boys from sadness.
When I was training to be a counsellor, it was the endings that I struggled with. For a person that didn't like endings, it was the hardest part of the counselling relationship for me. The end. The last session. The goodbye. I looked at unsatisfactory endings in my own life, and how they had affected me. I had run away from endings. Lots of times. I'd not really acknowledged that endings are there for a reason.
"All endings are just beginnings.
We just don't know this at the time."
(Mitch Albom- The Five People You Meet In Heaven).
It wil be ok though, wont it?