I spent all of last night consoling my oldest kid who couldn’t stop crying and didn’t want to sleep, because falling asleep meant that today would get here faster.
Today, the day that her next door bff moved away.
All three of my smalls had been dreading this day, but my oldest is undoubtedly having the toughest time with the whole thing. And like the mom/empath that I am, I’ve sucked up all of her emotions and spit them out in the form of sobbing alongside her. (I’m emotional for my own mom-ish reasons too, of course – like that my super shy son actually has someone who he’ll go outside and talk to, and that having such a good friend so nearby made their transition into a new house a piece of cake, and that he’s just a really cool kid).
And I dunno if you know this about us, but we’re those weirdos who get suuuuper attached to people and are absolutely rotten at goodbyes.
She compared their loss to Star Wars (of course), how “Red Squadron would lose a pilot, but the rest of the pilots had to keep fighting,” saying “like, we can be sad, but it’s kinda weird because we still have to just keep doing our normal stuff like we’re not sad.”
And she’s kinda right – I mean, he didn’t get shot down by Darth Vader, thankfully – but life certainly will be different. They’ll have to take the highway to each other’s houses rather than their usual belly slides down the shared-property line hill. Hanging out will have to be scheduled and planned, rather than as spontaneous as a daily knock at the back door and hours of riding their scooters around the lake and sitting in his apple tree before coming inside for board games and watching Star Wars (duh).
They’ve all made each other keepsakes (framed pictures, friendship bracelets, drawings) and have multiple ways of keeping in touch, so tonight when his U-haul was loaded and hugs were given, she asked me through teary-eyes if I think that they’ll really be friends forever.
I gave an emphatic “yes,” because it will not be said of me that my lack of faith [in friendship] is disturbing.