A woman colleague/friend happened to be in my office when her college-bound daughter came by, and conversation led to my friend going into a melodramatic avowal of desperation that her daughter was going to abandon her.
Without missing a beat, her daughter replied, fake sternly “GET a gripe, woman!”
A lovely relationship.
The author is aware of her great fortune in dealing with "only" ordinary sadness, and most parents do understandably experience the child leaving the nest as a bereavement (me too). I would like to see the NYT bring the perspectives though of mothers who are not white and middle class, I think the change of perspective would be good.
3
I have tears in my eyes reading this. It put into words feelings that have been hard to articulate about the fleeting nature of joy and our inability to control and direct the flow of life. I am hear to remind you turn your oven off as you read these comments. I have "burnt water" many times making tea--so I know how quickly these moments can come upon us!
3
Okay Mary Laura, its time to crank up Talking Head's 'Once in a Lifetime' and dance joyfully until your out of breath. Be ready for your own growing pains, because this life is same as it ever was.
5
What a lovely article. Thank you. It made me recall the time I took my daughter for a dental procedure just before she left for college. The dentist said something to me that I found incredulous at the time. He said, "you know, she's leaving home for good." Surely he was speaking of his own experience and had no idea of our situation. Now, several years since graduation with two states separating us, I ask myself how did he know?
2
Thank you Mary Laura. True on so many levels.
1
Beautiful essay. Some of us have lost adult children, not to death but to estrangement, which is a mostly hidden epidemic.
5
This is truly a beautiful article, but I experienced my most grief when we had to leave my 14-year old son at a residential treatment center for mental illness. Two years later we were happy to finally bring him home again.
12
We create our grief by expecting life to be different than it is.
We mistake what life is all about by thinking and acting as though we are in charge and live life. The reality is life lives us.
Our imagined expectations will often not match life's outcomes.
15
This article describes the foreplay of ordinary life grief that is what becoming an empty nester represents. For the author it is early days; wait, soon you will be able to calculate the approximate number of times you will even see them should they move far away.
7
You are a good mom. You have a child who loves you, but is independent.
I do not know what it feels like to enjoy being around my parents. I do not know what it is to look forward to seeing them. I dread every interaction.
So, I love how much you love your son, and embrace what is not a loss. You DO have more time.
10
I feel this all the time.
3
Your well-grounded fear in the shopping mall, and for your children, lies squarely at the feet of the NRA and their cowardly republican patsies and enablers. The damage that they have done to this society is almost too depressing to contemplate.
24
@W.H. Really??? Is That the best you can do??? Blame.the NRA? Such a boogie man!
The NRA Is not a scary monolith. It is millions of people who vote for what they believe. Just lots and lots of citizens.
And the biggest sadness of all, if we only were more honest and less lazy:
Climate change/global warming is gathering strength, and we stare at the end of civilization as we know it, as the crazy otherblaming takes over.
People with kids, I can only imagine how bad they feel, if they realize how bad we're making it, and how wonderful it would be if we all came to our senses and actually cared about the children, young and old, facing this peril.
16
Beautifully written piece. Thank you.
Also, I accidentally 'recommended' a comment by 'bereaved parent' that I actually do NOT recommend, and now, to compensate, I feel the need to offer a retort:
This gorgeous essay in no way shape or form sounded like the 'humble brag' that so many commenters like to accuse writers of. I'm beginning to think some people (trolls?) don't leave any space for thought or emotions other than their own. If someone writes about happiness, she's bragging. If she writes about sorrow or conflict or anything that probes intellectually, she's humble bragging.
11
@Stevie You can take back your recommendation simply by clicking on it again. I don't know if there's a limit on how much time you have to do this though. If the number recommended goes down by one, you know you've succeeded.
3
Lovely and so relatable.
5
I read this while watching my toddler son bathe in colored red water along with his treasured dinosaur toys. He’s just figured out that his voice sounds strange when his ears are under water, so there are a lot of “hellos” in different pitches being quietly said. These moments make my soul both happy and sad; how lucky I am to witness all of the moments in this child’s life and also how in the world am I going to handle when he’s grown and gone. And even though yesterday was a terrible day of tantrums and disobeying and we were both in tears when my husband came home from work, every night I lay in bed and thoughts creep into my mind about the dangers of this world. I have to push them away as quickly as they come because life will be what it will be. But I don’t think you know fear until you have children.
19
I've come to realize that much of the poignancy and sadness I feel about my children reaching adulthood is me coming to terms with my own advancing age and death. I'm young no more. Fortunately I have found purpose and joy in volunteering in adult literacy at the community college and the Y.
14
I am conventionally successful by every American measure. I left home at 18, went to college, traveled the world, launched a respectable career, fell in love, had kids, and settled down 3000 miles away from my hometown, where my family of origin remains. I am the oldest child in my family and growing up I always knew (maybe subconsciously) that this is what was expected of me; it is what American "success" looks like.
I have a beautiful life and am grateful each day for my many blessings, but it's a complicated happiness. My parents have been generous with their pride and support for all that I've achieved, but the truth is that we miss each other deeply. We visit a few times a year, but there's a lot that's missed. A part of me aches with longing each day, even after all these years.
I have a younger sibling who "failed to launch" by conventional American measure. This sibling needed extensive help transitioning in to adulthood, including many years of financial support, housing, job connections, etc. This sibling, now also nearly 40, never left. He lives down the street from my parents and still receives extensive help (now in the form of childcare). It's his children, not mine, that will grow up with the benefits of extended family nearby, close relationships with grandparents, and holidays together.
I find it all a bit ironic. It makes me question why the American definition of "success" often means leaving the people who know us best and love us most.
38
Well maybe your kids will value those relationships with grandparents more deeply than the cousins who could see them whenever they wanted. That’s how it worked out with my (Alaskan) kids and their (Pac NW) grandparents. Proximity is no guarantor of close relationships. Deep gratitude for, and love of, grandparents can flourish at a distance. Of course, the grandparents in this case worked hard at keeping the connection alive (phone calls, letters, recordings of grandparents reading stories, etc).
4
One of the greatest gifts I have received is the gift of gratitude. I am not sure I ever truly knew or practiced it until I buried a child. During the first weeks and months of raw, acute grief, I found myself enormously impatient with parents who were sad about what I thought were inconsequential things (like getting the "bad" first grade teacher or not making the travel soccer team.)
Slowly I emerged from my tears to see how surviving a loss like mine - a child's death from disease - would eventually equip me to feel greater compassion for people all along the spectrum of grief. I felt grateful that we gave our son the best medical care (and that sometimes that just isn't enough) and that he didn't die from neglect or violence or evil or malice. I felt grateful that losing him gave me a greater appreciation for celebrating the moment and not worrying over next week or year. This gratitude - gave me perspective. I could now hear other mothers agonize over "smaller" losses and concerns, knowing how much worse it could be, but without delegitimizing their "worst" moments.
We can't know how we would endure someone else's pain. We might think, "I could never deal with [a child's death; an 18-year-old who deploys to a danger zone; an adult child on drugs; etc.]" We only know what we know. Those of us who have survived the worst loss are incredibly strong. I try to use my strength to cherish loved ones and be present for people going through their "worst."
53
@Golf Widow
Thanks for your lovely post! I agree that gratitude is the greatest gift of all!!!
Bless you!
9
So all of you truly loving parents with your heartfelt expressions of sadness can we even imagine what it is like now for all those mothers at the border , and elsewhere, being separated from their children??? (And what about the children who will not be able to receive their support?)
They will not have the gift of this sadness you are talking about.
You can say 'I don't want to go there' but you must because it is edging closer and closer to us....so let us celebrate our sadness as so many will not be able to...and work to make their world better so they can.
23
By Time.
Indeed man/woman is in loss,
except those who have faith and do righteous deeds, and enjoin one another to [follow] the truth, and enjoin one another to patience.
A stark reminder for passing milestones and our ephemeral existence.
3
"It’s hitting me that I am standing at the beginning of a string of endings. I am proud and bereft at once. My children’s happiness feels like opening the best present in the world. Their leaving — a gradual process that has barely even started — already feels like my limbs are being amputated, one by one. But I don’t feel comfortable talking about such a mundane breaking-apart in a world where real wreckage lies scattered everywhere. I carry this sadness around quietly, so as not to take up too much air with it, to leave space for the far more significant sadnesses of others. How do we appropriately mourn the passage of time when it’s passing beautifully, safely, but not for everyone?"
Thank you for putting in words all the emotions that I am struggling with today...
14
Perfect. This is exactly how I feel as I joyously anticipate my daughter’s wedding next weekend. I wouldn’t have it any other way, and yet this is yet another enormous step that separates her (and me) from her childhood. I wouldn’t trade, yet I am flooded with nostalgia and longing.
14
This is a beautifully written piece, and so meaningful to me this week, as I dropped my only child off at college. When I find myself getting sad, I think about how I would cry even harder if he returned home in failure, which is not unusual when one looks at drop out statistics. I try to find joy in each of his new beginnings rather than the ones that are left behind. For now, I know I am truly blessed.
13
My mother would have joined you. As I grew up, I always felt her private anguish over my growing independence, and it was an unwelcome weight. If I am being honest, getting away from her grieving was a big driver to move far away for college. Now that I am older, I realize that her tears were not about me. She was dealing with things I had no idea about. It wasn't until after she sought treatment, and I was much older with kids of my own, did we finally talk about why she constantly mourned my normal milestones. I understand now, but I often wonder what it would have felt like to have a mother who wasn't struggling with undiagnosed depression.
12
I never go to a mall anymore, excepting the few times I absolutely need to make a trip to the Apple Store. Even then, I know exactly the fastest way to escape the building, and I have prickles running down my back the whole time I’m in the mall, waiting for my turn to be the victim of a public mass shooting.
So, I mostly stay safe at home, am grateful I’m on the tail end of this life at age 66, and pity the children born after the year 2000. They will never know the safety and freedom I enjoyed during my 1950’s-1960’s childhood.
13
I remember the absolute joy I had leaving my parents when they dropped me off for college. Growing up in my house was restrictive and I was tired of thought control. I'm sure my parents missed me, but I did not miss them.
I think of my own boys, now 16 and 20, and there are times I miss the little boys they were. But I also know that they are growing up in a family much more sympathetic to their experiences, and as such I know they are experiencing their own joy at becoming independent. I can't mourn that.
Having them become functioning, compassionate adults is a joy.
27
Our nuclear family has been reunited for the last five years, now including a daughter in law and two grandchildren. The joy that I feel when we are together, which is often, is immeasurable. The seeds of love that were firmly planted when we raised our sons,has fully bloomed to envelop us in ways that are far greater than when we were raising them. The best is yet to come, is what I would say to the writer of this essay.
2
As a psychiatrist and therapist who deals daily with loss--be they my own, my family's or friends' or my patients--I found your piece to be exquisitely eloquent, since you've been able to express what is, for so many of us, ineffable.
It's hard to not constantly compare our lives with someone else's, but the point is NEVER that someone is suffering or celebrating more, but that each moment of each life is meaningful, and every experience deserves to be processed and learned from and can be shared.
It is difficult for me to read the other comments and not cringe at the responses that seem more reflexive than reflective, but I caution myself--and you--to receive them in the same spirit that you wrote this beautiful piece. Behind every comment is someone who is sharing a piece of their life that they are asking to be witnessed, honored, and maybe understood.
69
How do you conclude that you are going about your little grief quietly and not taking too much attention when you write a piece that is published in the New York Times for crying out loud. You are right about one thing: you should keep quiet and be grateful you are not in my shoes, a parent of a dead child. Is this a particularly perverted version of what is called a "humble brag"?
32
@Bereaved Parent
As difficult as this comment is to read, I have to agree with it. The lion's share of the first-person essays in the NYT could be filed under the category you mention. I feel your pain, Bereaved Parent.
5
This 59 year old mom drove her only child to college (from Seattle to WSU in Pullman, WA) in August 2017 and then I went back home in the same day. This, my friends, was a total of eleven hours. How my butt was killing me. But his beloved grandmother and my momma was dying in Seattle and I had to get back. My double loss was incredible but lucky me...my mom helped raised him and I gave back to her my caring and love in her final days. My son is the grateful one as he received the solid foundation to carry on. Right on.
13
@Jocelyn Hudson Your family has been greatly blessed by one another. I share your gratitude.
4
My 29 year old newlywed son's high school classmate was killed by a distracted driver twelve days before his own wedding. I am more than happy to bear the burdens of ordinary losses, as my three children grow up, get married, and get on with their lives. Many don't have that privilege. I couldn't bear a tragic loss.
13
@Maria
"I couldn't bear a tragic loss."
When it comes, one has very little choice.
11
My son spent most of his life in his room on his computer. When he got a job (in computers) in a city two hours away, we were all in tears. He was truly like a lost puppy. But he did well at work and I saw having the time of his 24-year-old life. I miss him. I’ve turned his computer room into a studio. I was afraid for a long time that he wouldn’t never come out of his room and I a am so happy and pleased. He’s living life with all its risks and I’m painting again.
15
I’m glad you gave him the space to find himself on his own terms. It’s very hard as a parent to not intervene with advice and good intentions. Sometimes it’s not about the parent’s idea of what is best for their kids but about their kids finding what is best for themselves. These are difficult and confusing times. Best you can do for your grown kids is to be understanding that their life decisions are theirs to make.
7
Sometimes we hasten the moment when that closeness ends in a flood of selfless enthusiasm for new opportunities that open up for them. We encourage them to spread their wings to our own detriment. My son and only child had the opportunity to go to France for a School Year Abroad in his Senior year and I was thrilled for him and talked him through his last-minute anxieties, sharing his excitement and trepidation. Off he went; I had had no idea a year could be so so long, and when he came back he went to college, then to his first job in the big city, then got married , and now lives three hours away in the midst of a super-busy and happy, successful life. I’m proud of him, glad for him, but he’s still the light of my life and I miss him every day!
17
My son is coming up on his 10-year college reunion. How those years flew by. But from the moment he left mid-summer after graduation to move far away and start a successful career, I have missed his presence, his smile, his spirit, HIM.
Yes, this is ordinary sadness, maybe even self-indulgent. But what's true is true. Despite being proud of his life and very happy for him, he was, is, the light of my life and I truly miss him and probably always will.
34
I missed my daughter when she was at Smith but it was thrilling compared to the daily pain and struggle of my two brilliant but psychiatrically disabled sons living with me.
16
@chrispysullivanI don't know you, but I'm with you.
2
I helped raise my (now) 33 year old niece (currently) in med school. She was 6 months old when we first met in Venezuela, pre-Grade 1 her first summer stay, Grade 2 her first multi-year stay, multiple summer trips until mid-Grade 11 when she was here to stay ... when she was not.
I’m tired of listening to people saying that I’m not a parent.
All I can say is that I remember her first complete English sentence (and where), carrying her in a deep snowy night to a friend’s house, walking to the Eiffel Tower, all while I completed a co-signed loan application this morning.
I know how the author feels.
11
"To be a parent in America now" .... is also to live in a country that separates children from their parents and puts them in camps. More than a sad time to be an American parent, it is time for outrage.
13
@HH And when we keep them with their detained parents we are condemned for interning children. We are condemned either way (and even more if we deport the family).
2
My daughter is engaged and I am going through similar emotions once again....
4
Crying, but not an ugly cry. A sympathetic cry. A knowing cry. A cry for those who have lost... big and small.
Thank you for writing this.
15
This brought me to tears, and caused me to leave the office immediately to spend time with the four year old light of my life.
Thank you Ms. Philpott.
12
A thousand times, this. Thank you for putting words to my feelings.
10
Thank you for this honest and resonating piece. I am the father of a son heading to the US for postgrad studies. I don't share your feelings, but completely understand why you experience them. Contrary to some harsh judgemental comments here, in my experience there are many ways loving, intelligent parents, happy that their children are out there having great fulfilling lives react to milestones -- especially ordinary ones. It's absolutely fine to experience eddies of celebration and sadness over the same milestones, to be nostalgic and feel good about our children's present adventures and future opportunities. I don't think your "grief" is "self-indulgent", but a facet of the muddled, wonderful mixed bag of being a loving parent.
32
I’m sitting on a plane, 35,000 feet over Nashville, having just dropped my oldest daughter in college in California. I’m sad, I’m lonely, but I’m also proud. It was my job do do this, and I did it against some obstacles, and she has what it takes to be successful.
I understand what you said about shootings and all, and it is humbling to hear from parents who have a sorrow I’m not sure I could handle. But I told my daughter the most dangerous place she can be is in a car with an aggressive or impaired driver. There is a daily slaughter on our roads that dwarfs the shootings and doesn’t make the papers, and it is stealing our young.
Beautiful piece, perfectly timed for me, thank you. Nice comments by virtually all.
7
I’m sitting on a plane, 35,000 feet over Nashville, having just dropped my oldest daughter in college in California. I’m sad, I’m lonely, but I’m also proud. It was my job do do this, and I did it against some obstacles, and she has what it takes to be successful.
I understand what you said about shootings and all, and it is humbling to hear from parents who have a sorrow I’m not sure I could handle. But I told my daughter the most dangerous place she can be is in a car with an aggressive or impaired driver. There is a daily slaughter on our roads that dwarfs the shootings and doesn’t make the papers, and it is stealing our young.
Beautiful piece, perfectly timed for me, thank you. Nice comments by virtually all.
3
Now when I go to a movie with children, we look for emergency exits so they know how to try to escape. We try to be aware of our surroundings at the mall or at outdoor festivals. Their school instituted new safety measures for pickup. Each day that we wake up and go to bed safely, I am thankful.
6
@Sushirrito I am truly only at peace when my husband, child and (even my) dog are home safe with me. Then I don't have to worry about them not returning, and what might prevent them from doing so.
Thank you for bringing back sweet memories.
I knew time was passing quickly. We did so much together as a family. But nothing would slow it down.
Before I knew it, she had graduated college, married and moved to Japan with her husband. I miss her very much.
I failed as a mother with my first child in my awful first marriage but in the second marriage, being a mother was a joy. I let my daughter go when it was time because that's what I owed her...freedom.
She was prepared for a happy, successful life. I wish I could have given my son that kind of beginning but it didn't happen. That's the truth.
We owe our kids a complete letting go after we help them prepare for their lives.
No guilt trips, no sadnesses that drag them backwards. I remember how I felt, wanting freedom and my own path.
The exhilaration of being young and ready to live apart from the family.
6
Beautiful article articulating a feeling I’ve felt since I found out I was pregnant the first time. Parenting is letting go. 8 years and 3 children later I feel the profound feeling of nurturing them and “losing” them as a constant quiet undercurrent in our everyday life. Thanks for giving us a bit of validation in this small but ever present feeling.
16
The only thing I could think about throughout this entire piece was how lucky you are. And you stated that, which is great, but you left out us parents who have lost our children to drugs. I lost my only child. She's still technically alive, but at age 35 I've never seen her sober for more than six months, so I don't know the real her - nor does she know herself. She's away at treatment again. I never went to her graduation, or her dorm, or had fun summer trips with her, because her dad and I were dealing with one crises after another. Hoping she would get better, and not kill herself or anyone else. All while being judged by people with happy, normal, children. And we are both highly educated (multiple college degrees) loving parents. She will tell anyone that she had a terrific childhood, raised with great values and tons of love. I truly am happy for your family, but your article made me very sad for my own.
70
@Marcy
I'm so, so sorry Marcy. I hope she finds her way through.
28
@Marcy
You are not alone in your pain @Marcy. Drugs have robbed so many of their lives. I hope she finds the help she needs.
12
@Marcy With all my heart, I hope you feel the love around you, and that it will help you feel less alone. I promise to keep you and your daughter in my prayers.
7
Seems like a lot of baby boomer parents, especially moms, were/are over-invested in their kids. I've had to rethink some things, and move on with my own life. And that's not a bad thing!
18
Wow. Not sure how I feel about this article. My son passed away suddenly at the age of 35. We experienced all of the milestones mentioned, summer camp, college, and much more, but it came to an end way too soon. All I can say is enjoy all the experiences with your children and don’t turn it into a sad moment. Losing my son has been truly devastating. Peace
68
@JB Peace to YOU.
4
We need to celebrate our children venturing off to college and the world at large. I am continually amazed at how this grief among parents has become habitual. It may be the loss of control many feel about life in general and we compensate it through greater control through childrearing.
But, let them go, let them know you are there for them, but encourage exploration and adventure with vigor. We need to prepare them for the intrepid aspects of life and remember that their preparation needs outweigh our emotional needs as parents.
17
@Steve Seems like many of the baby boomers, especially the moms, were over-invested in their kids. I've had to rethink everything, and make a new way. And that's not a bad thing!
4
Being in love with your child/children is one of the greatest honors a human being can experience. With it comes sadness and fear for/about them. From the mundane of their suffering a 'I didn't make the team' to the call notifying you about their car accident, we parents have to buck up and guide them through life's many hazards.
All mine are over 25 now and living in their own homes (never to return?) and I wonder if I have prepared them well enough to navigate on their own. Because I/we do have to let go.
Every day I thank the Lord that today my children were safe and healthy. And I am oh so grateful for another day with them out there in the world.
12
Firsts and lasts. After we dropped our daughter ofd at college 3,000 miles from home, I realized that we had moved from the days of our firsts - first steps, first words, first day of school, and more - to the point when in time of our lasts - last time she’d be home as our child rather than as an adult, last time she might live in our area, and more. And our lasts were her firsts - first day of college, first apartment with friends, first Thanksgiving away from home, first adult job. And someday she too will have her own lasts.
This article was so on point, how we build a life with our children composed of many small yet often special moments. Thank you.
19
I have a 5 month old and a 2 1/2 year old and this absolutely made me start crying. Thank you, I think?
9
We never have « more time ». Actually, time is the one thing we don’t even have, as Heraclitus discovered. We don’t own time; at our best, at our happiest, we are in the moment. Such moment then turns into our little eternity. Ironically, we only become aware of this when we slip out of the moment. According to Watterson, « Halcyon days are awarded retroactively. »
15
"To be a parent in America now" . . . Oh the tragedy of living in the present times. No one's children were at risk in the past! Well, except for every "parent in America" who lived before you, to a far greater degree, because we now have better medicines, air bags, and pay more attention to children's safety. The irrational fear of a highly unlikely mass shooting does not change that. Nor does it approach the rational fear of, say, the parent of an 18-year old finding out their kid's lottery number and whether they were going to be sent to Vietnam. 58,000 died there, and the ones who didn't paid a great price as well.
24
@DJG
Many more died in places like the Bulge and Okinawa, and Gettysburg and the Wilderness long before that.
2
When I read the headline to this article, I immediately thought about losing our children and/or grandchildren to an active shooter in school, or at the mall, or really anywhere in this country. I was glad to read that the author was just having empty nest syndrome.
4
It’s so beautiful and true.
A grandmother
4
Letting go when part of you wants to hold on .... I feel it too. Parents really are amazing ... didn't know it till I had my own children (now teens). Loved your piece.
2
A big part of parenting is grieving - which moms have known forever but which is newer for some dads whose own fathers were more remote.
I wrote these lines after my oldest went to college:
Now you are big
A big, strong boy.
I could wait all day
at the gate of your old school,
and you would not come.
You have gone on
to other schools,
other gates,
where I am seldom called
to meet you.
Yes, “the empty gate,” all (lucky) parents know it.
14
Poor kids, they really don't have any autonomy they are just an extension of their parents needs and emptiness.
My parents and my friends parents had their own lives, busy with work and adventure . They were not dependant on their children for meaning and purpose Our parents were interesting people , good parents but we had our own space and would have hated to have parents invade that privacy.
I heard adolescents now extends to age 40. This group of kids are going to have a terrible ,hard future with global warming, famine and wars.
Parents you need to toughen up your kids and stop keeping meeting your needs instead of raising adults.
Many parents arer thrilled when the kids leave , thrilled to get thier lives back.
24
@Chelsea
Don't look now, but there are some kids on your lawn you may want to wave a stick at.
11
here is another thought:
be lucky you have a partner at home with you when you send your kids off. some of us literally came home alone to an empty house. yet I find myself consoling those whose spouse is right there.
12
All I can say as a mother of grown young adult children is, you are not alone Ms Philpott. Almost all of the thoughtful humans I encounter theses days are deeply distressed. Existential Crisis is to simple a description for the terror commonly felt, and not from a place or natural anxiety for the wellbeing of our children,or loved ones, but from reasoned analysis of current events. Data that is confirmed by our actual encounters with how our society treats us. Poor health bad insurance untrustworthy medicine and food stuffs burning world stuffed with gun freaks,and powerful leadership that is not only incompetent but a genuine threat to everyone’s future. Leaders that could act, but refuse to stand up and activate the legal constitutional tools available to protect us. When we most need Obama style of leadership we get reality show fakery drama king poisoning...bully in the pulpit, rabid foxes in the hen house. I put on my tan suit cry and get on with it. But mostly long for the simple routine joys and sorrows of life so recently lived.
9
I am 63. Today I learned that a friend of mine, lifelong, from the playgrounds of grade school, just lost his son from a fentanyl overdose. To this writer I say, "Please, keep your life experiences in perspective."
29
@Ed
Give her some credit. Much of this essay was about just that.
16
Wow, I feel like this author has written the essay that I didn't know how to write. I am going through the exact same things! Thank you, Mary :)
3
Parenting is helping to create an independent human being. Failure to launch is failure. Celebrate your child’s independence. You’ve done your job!
11
Thank you, MLP, for such a beautiful little read this morning. It reminds me of a lovely "blessing for sending" I came across this weekend. I think you might like it.
https://paintedprayerbook.com/2016/06/24/this-day-we-say-grateful-a-sending-blessing/
I hope to finally meet you face to face in Austin in October!
This article reminded me so much of my mother.
We were the very best of pals. When it came time for me to leave home for college, albeit it was only 35 miles away, the separation was equally difficult and painful for both of us.
I didn't want to leave my mother, my best friend, my rock and soul. but I also knew I had to leave that tiny, dinky town because I didn't want to get married, have children or work in on an assembly line in the Mirro Aluminum plant.
My mother knew it was for the best that I crawl out of the nest and explore the world. She knew I would never be truly happy if I stayed behind, merely being her youngest daughter.
We both realized that it was time to part and live our lives apart but also side by side.
After awhile I decided that I wanted to move to New York City and become police officer. She never laughed and only supported my dream, but it came with a condition - I had to stay put and finished my education. She said after I had my degree, I could go and do whatever my heart wanted.
I didn't like that answer, but I agreed to her terms and wisdom. And it was the best thing I ever did because after I finished my degree, my mother became will with cancer and died months later.
I believe she knew she was ill but either did not want acknowledge it. She wanted to keep me close, but far enough where I was able to care and depend on myself. Her "great fortune of ordinary sadness" was to care for me until it was time for her to say goodbye.
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@Marge Keller - Her "great fortune of ordinary sadness" was to care for me until it was time for her to say goodbye.
I found your whole comment so interesting, and then I got to this line and my heart broke for you, and for two close friends here who passed away leaving young children.
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@common sense advocate
Thanks for your always supportive and kind comment.
My heart breaks as well for every young child who loses a parent. My mother always had a cloud of sadness around her because she lost her mom when she was only 11 yrs. old. Being the only girl in a large family with a harden and mean father only compounded her pain and grief.
Have a safe, enjoyable and fun holiday weekend! Best to you and your family.
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Your "own tiny, self-indulgent grief?" Mmm, perhaps, but I think you're being too harsh. There is no generosity greater than sharing one's heart. Thank you.
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“Looking for exits” ! Thoughts and prayers. A good guy with a gun. Guns don’t kill people. Thanks Wayne, Mitch, Donald and other enablers. It isn’t going to get better until sane legislation is enacted. Better belt up...it’s coming to a mall, church or festival near you. So very sad.
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This writer needs to chill some. Her son has TWO more years before he goes off to college. And, actually when your kids leave for college, all the fellow parents who have kids leaving will be understanding of the loss. Or maybe write about it then when it is actually real.
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Yes...the passage of time can be so cruel but the fruit is oh so sweet.
2
Yes beautifully written and completely understood. Now if you can even try to imagine, imagine that after your adult child that you struggled to put through college and post-grad school estranges from you and moves across the country, barely stays in touch & never shares even 1 holiday and doesn't even acknowledge Mother's Day & milestone birthdays. Can't imagine that right? What did the parents do that *must have" caused that result? The automatic knee-jerk thought most parents would have. Well,this has happened to the best of parents (more than you are aware of) -- the best of parents that all make innocent & unknowing mistakes & devoted their entire lives to their children. Parents who did not abuse their children in *any* way. Parents who did just the opposite by giving all of themselves emotionally & financially left in a torturous mental prison spending the rest of the life wondering, huh, why & how did this happen.
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@Catherine You are not alone, and I hope you reach out and avail yourself of what Dr. Joshua Coleman and Sheri McGregor writes. The loss is real - take care of yourself, be honest with yourself, and reach out to friends, online groups, and your family doctor if necessary. You can get past this and have a good life. Take care.
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@Catherine
If you ask the quintessential question, why, and say you are willing to listen to the answer, no matter how painful it may be to you, you may get an answer. Write to the child, and let him/her know that you can handle the answer, no matter how difficult it will be for you to hear. There is a reason. It just has not yet been shared.
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While I respect the writer’s experience, what she describes is a series of luxuries that I will not have. Imagine being the parent of an African American boy now man. That feeling of sadness is overwhelmed by the more familiar feeling of fear. Whether he is leaving for class or going to work, I worry. He was regularly stopped while walking our dog Langston, a 25 pound small lab mix. Someone called the police when my son was simply in our backyard. Once, when he was 12, he asked to go running with a friend. I lost it. I screamed, don’t you know that you are Black? You can’t go running through the neighborhood. You will be shot before being questioned.”The fact that his friend was not African American wasn’t lost on me. I ultimately relented and experienced the longest 20 minutes of my life. Never again did he go running unless on a track or if we were out of the US. Sad but true.
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Thank you for sharing this. How terrifying for any parent to have to worry about disastrous things happening to their innocent child for no reason other than racism, pure and simple. I hope your son remains safe as he grows up.
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@Jacqueline Jones
Paranoia.
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@Jacqueline Jones - I can't share your experience as a mother, but I had a flash of what you describe when I drove two young black basketball teammates of my son's to a tournament a few weeks ago. It was a long drive, so we had a few stops, and at two of the stops-the owner of a drycleaner and the owner of the snack shop at the gas station both looked hostile and terrified towards these two sweet boys who were simply miming the three and one shots they hope to (and make!) in their games that day. I changed the attitude of one of the men by deliberately walking both boys up to him to introduce themselves and describe where they were going. That man was so surprise to hear such nice boys talking that he tried to comp our snacks and drinks. The other store owner- there was no way to assuage his hostility, presumably born from some kind of racist fear that two 14-year-old boys in basketball uniforms would tear up his shop, so We had a long discussion in the car about HIS limitations, NOT theirs. Not that my feelings matter all that much in the situation-but I felt like a bodyguard, an interpreter, an activist, and a very sad mom - unable to pave the pathway they deserved-even for one weekend.
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Stop worrying and mourning so much. You need to take a more Zen attitude to life. You do sound live a very possessive and over protective mom. Can your kid buy supplies on his own if he runs out of shampoo and soap and toothpaste? The camp staffer picked the vibe up immediately. Start looking for activities to do on our own and fill your life.
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Another way to say this is that it’s time to move on to the next phase of parenting. The one where you take satisfaction in knowing he’ll figure out what to do if he runs out of toothpaste.
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This essay could have been so much better.
I feel like I wasted three minutes reading it. What a disappointment.
She's clearly never experienced real loss--she ought to write again when that happens.
I increasingly feel like the quality of these pieces is sinking.
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@green eyes
Agreed. Don't know why, but thought the writer would go deeper. I worry about my nieces and nephews raising their children as we are in the throes of possibly cataclysmic climate change.
This is selfish sentimental claptrap disguised as an essay about the larger landscape in America while still talking about the authors feelings! An indulgence only available to the well-off with leisure. Please!!!
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My kids are still little, in fact my sleeping 6-week-old is holding on to my thumb as I type this.
The first time I cried over a milestone was when my firstborn lost the rest of her umbilical cord. She was three days old. I’ve since gotten somewhat better at dealing with the fact that my children will not stay delicious newborns forever, but I still secretly hope that at least one of them will choose to live in the same city as me when they grow up.
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You captured perfectly the difference between change and transition. Change can happen in an instant: graduating from high school, getting married, passing from this life. The transition that accompanies the change can begin before the change and last for many years afterwards. Sometimes we know about the impending change and can plan ahead for how to deal with it. Some changes happen out of the blue and those can be the hardest to deal with and hence, the thought, "I thought I had more time..."
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I was never that mom who cried on the first day of kindergarten, the last day of high school, etc. It was so exciting and wonderful to watch them charge on to the next milestone. Through college and their first jobs in new cities, there was always a fair amount of contact and listening and advice. But then they do grow fully up. My advice is to start thinking now on what is going to be your purpose when your adult children are truly adults with families of their own, their attention and dreams rightfully turned toward their young family and the future. It better not be just them and the grandchildren! That's a recipe for heartbreak (yours) and distaste (theirs).
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As a parent of a child who was diagnosed with pediatric leukemia, this article was more than I could bear. Self indulgent and simpering are words that come to mind here. Here's a tip, how about enjoying the moments as they come, being grateful that your child or mostly grown child is healthy. Revel in the fact that your child is hitting all of the milestones that come with growing up. Spend some time watching your child receive chemotherapy and/or in a pediatric cancer waiting room will easily snap you out of whatever grief you seem to be reveling in.
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@Elizabeth
I don’t relate to the author’s sadness either. But, I have cried seeing my son reach certain milestones because he was born with a life threatening heart malformation. I remember when I was afraid to buy the large box of diapers (would he still be here?) and now the topic is college and jobs! I cry with joy and gratitude. I know there is no guarantee and every milestone is a celebration that moves me to tears. It sounds like your child has also survived. We know we are blessed and so does this author. She does make the points you ask her to consider. Still she grieves. Perhaps we don’t have that luxury. I am glad I am moved but not sad.
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@Elisabeth so sorry for your loss, I think the author attempted to touch on this issue in the title: The Great Fortune of Ordinary Sadness and when she wrote:
How do we appropriately mourn the passage of time when it’s passing beautifully, safely, but not for everyone?......All I know to do is acknowledge the fortune of having milestones to celebrate at all.
Knowing that so many friends and family, who, for one reason or another will not be celebrating graduations, or their child leaving the nest is always sitting with me as my children go on to becoming independent adults and we acknowledge those milestones. This does not make their loss any less painful.
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@Bratface Indeed, the title of this article makes my point as to the self indulgent "grief" at issue here...and btw, my child has not passed.
5
It wasn't always this way, and it still isn't this way in many parts of the world. We traded the social disfunctionality that came from families being forced by their finances to spend their entire lives together for a new world where we separate, when it is affordable and convenient to do so. Of course we are sad to see our children go, as mine have been now for many years, but if we did our jobs right they are capable of creating their own homes and their own lives, and the satisfaction we can have from knowing we did our job and prepared them for that, while it may not replace having them with us, can amply suffice.
7
It's bittersweet but (as all parents should regularly do) remember how it felt when you were a late teen-- 18-20 is so much better than 16, the confusion is lifting, independence is sweet and exciting, and the little bit you miss your parents is blinded by the colorful light of the future.
This time of year I always miss my sons (and my parents), the nostalgia of going back to school, watching football together, frisbee and bodysurfing at the beach every day.
But they grew up! And now they are the happiest adults I know, with great wives and babies. Just be happy that your kids are happy, because that is the absolute best we can hope for.
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To me, this article is the definition of "maudlin", as are many of the comments. Yes, I was sad to see each shift in the tectonic plates of my children's lives, but the sadness was very quickly replaced by the joy of seeing them grow into responsible, thoughtful adults, which is what I'd been teaching them to be from their earliest days. Empty nest sadness? Gimme a break! Nothing compared to the sheer pleasure of watching my fledglings soar!
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@Sandy -- Don't dismiss in others their nostalgia and "normal sadness" -- because life is sad and beautiful no matter how much we try to stay on the surface of things.
20
Me too! This ‘take’ is so millennial.
3
This is a beautiful article. I've said goodbye to two of my boys, sending one on to college and then into the working world, and the other to the military. My daughter is halfway through high school and diligently researching colleges that are beyond a comfortable driving distance from home. I miss them, but I've been missing them just a tiny bit from the moment they left my arms and took their first shaky steps away from me. I'm happy for them, for their exciting lives, independence, and their collective adventures. And I'm happy for me, as my husband and I will soon have a quiet house and can travel as we wish.
But despite the happiness, there's always a twinge of sadness, because I can still remember what it was like to hold them in the wee hours, walking the halls with a feverish child, knowing that all they wanted was me. Okay, I've got to stop before I really cry...thanks for this article!
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Live, Die, Repeat...
This is the story of generations, but you tell it with poignancy and clarity... Thanks for that on an unexceptional Thursday just like so many others that we think when we start them.
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Such an odd and heart-breaking world we live in right now. Not only do we feel the expected pain of missing our children who have moved out, we also feel the survivor's guilt of actually still having children to miss.
The older I get, the more I feel that every joy is ringed with a small perimeter of sadness. And yet, as I broaden my perspective and focus more on others, I come to realize how truly fortunate I am to have the ordinary sadness that Ms. Philpott so beautifully describes. There but for the grace of God ...
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@Cloud Hunter Thank you. Those who have criticized the author would benefit from your comments about being so fortunate to have only the ordinary sadnesses. I think Philpott acknowledged that.
2
Thank you! So beautifully said. You expressed my thoughts and feelings exactly-
7
Thank you. My daughter is 29 and doing well and I’m still stunned by the loss of her presence. I know that is self indulgent in light of a permanent loss, but I don’t know what to do with it or the readjustment period we enter when we see each other. I guess, as always, beauty in small things, even in the feel and smell of the last peaches of summer. And gratitude.
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I’m reminded of the old Simon and Garfunkel song: Hello, hello, hello ... goodbye. That’s all there is. I have also found myself at times wondering when did I buy that last package of Huggies for my second child who is now a 36 year old man weighing over 200 pounds and a gifted elementary school teacher. Self-indulgent nostalgia is part of being a parent, I guess.
10
As I dropped my 23-year-old daughter at the airport yesterday I teared up and was flooded with memories of major events in her life. And this good-bye wasn’t a game changer, she was just going to visit a friend. Yet, who knows?
Your column beautifully described the indescribable love I feel for my two daughters. Now I’m crying (not just tearing up) and nostalgic. Thanks a lot...I really mean that.
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@John C. Tucker
Lucky girls! You sound like a wonderful dad. Your beautiful response brought moisture to my eyes.
4
Christenings. Graduations. Some years back I began to notice my joy for these beginnings carried a measure of sorrow.
The world my Boomer generation leaves for the young is a world of climate crisis, economic upheaval and chaos. Only with the most profound effort of humankind could the impacts be reduced.
What are we doing?
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@Bob Dass Exactly—that’s what I thought this article would be about, based on the headline. Many generations of parents and grandparents throughout history and in other parts of the contemporary world have had to face this type of uncertainty. Now it’s our turn.
1
As a new parent, I've already realized the tragic beauty of preparing your kids for life effectively is an exercise in making the majority of your roles obsolete.
Every milestone is greeted with extreme joy tinged with just a drop of sadness.
It's the most human I've ever felt.
Nice article.
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The feeling one gets from raising a child who totally embraces the world earlier than we had imagined never goes away. My "unique" is 26 and just celebrated another birthday without a cake baked by me. He comes home only twice a year, and once a year is with his girlfriend. We talk on the phone weekly, and then I go meditate
my sorrow away and turn it into a pat on the back...you'll get there! Never give up but embrace your world traveler....
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@D.
I know exactly how you feel. :)
As a parent who has lost two children in the past eight years, I must say I was hesitant to read this article. I’ve seen too many self indulgent parenting articles about dropping the youngest child off at college. I’m glad I did read on, though. It is a beautifully written expression of “Ordinary Grief” while acknowledging the more significant grief of others.
Whether loss is sudden and great, or whether it is a loss by a “thousand tiny cuts”, the grief is the same. Thanks for bridging the gap between these two groups.
We all will, eventually and permanently, leave behind everyone we cared about. Sometimes we get to say goodbye, sometime we don’t. Let us act together, in love and respect for all, while being ever mindful of that fact.
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@Robert P I'm sorry for the loss of your precious children.
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@Robert P
Thank you. Beautifully said.
13
How is the grief the same? That is deeply offensive. My child left home and became an adult. Then he died. These are the same things?
6
This is a sweet essay, and no doubt many readers recognize their own feelings in what the author expresses.
I know the author probably didn't write the subtitle: "To be a parent in America now is to carry both the mundane, expected grief of letting children go and the fear of far more tragic loss." Some editor likely did.
I guess I object, mildly, to that word "now." And, for heaven's sake, "in America." This objection seems worth bringing up not to attack the spirit of this piece, but rather to suggest how our emotions become superficial when they rely on ignorance of human experience larger and longer than our own.
There's no "now" about it. Parents have faced horrible loss throughout human time. They have sent their sons to war never to return, they have lost their infants to horrible diseases that we now can cure. Parental fear is not a special feature of "now," nor of American life, which is still more insulated from danger than the lives of many of our brothers and sisters around the world.
Our emotions take on a deeper, more sober significance with a fuller understanding of what being a parent and a human being has always meant from the beginnings of human experience.
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@Jim Among first world nations, the sudden loss of children to weapons of mass destruction is unique to American parents--thanks to the NRA and the politicians funded by weapons manufacturers and Russians, who propagandize that mass murders every day of the year is what the Founding Fathers intended.
9
@Jim, I read this article expecting to hate it, to find it too self-indulgent, too entitled, but what I came away with was the author's sensitivity and her attempt to be sensitive, and yet to express her particular emotions. And so, instead of criticizing the author and her editor for not being as comprehensive as possible about the range of loss that humans experience, now and in the past, I was simply touched and appreciative that Mary Laura Pilipott had shared this lovely piece. It encouraged me to acknowledge the fortune of having milestones and ordinary losses to celebrate and also to reflect on the tragic loss that others have suffered.
7
The writer’s gift is in how she describes her mindfulness of all the little things that make up life with her children. Some people take their kids for granted, but she knows what gifts she has. Enjoy every minute. Be proud of their independence. That worry that life will change completely when they leave home is true. Ten years out from my kid leaving for college, I love watching him make a life for himself, but I miss him every day. And I miss who he was at 15, and 10, and 5, and 1...all those boys are behind us. But there’s a lot to knowing that I lived every age with love and joy. I still do. This mother will, too.
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Thank you for this marvelous column.
I'm not a high F (feeling) person on personality tests. I AM a planner, but I don't plan for feelings.
So I was devastated by the overwhelming sense of loss I felt when we drove away from moving our older son into his college dorm. I was in no way prepared for this emotional pain. It literally blindsided me.
We lived in Boston and his college was in Boston. He wasn't hundreds of miles away, and yet I felt this huge pain.
We had 'let this son go' into an enormous amount of independence many times while he was in High School. He and a friend followed the Grateful Dead, the summer my son was 16. I was always cool. Aside from a certain amount of concern for his safety and well-being there was no emotional pain.
When he was only 20, he moved to France with his French girl friend, and I was sad and missed him, but the feeling was nothing like that shock I felt leaving his college dorm.
When our second son moved into his dorm, six years later, I was sad as we drove away, but that 'great pain' didn't hit me.
And there is great freedom in the empty nest. trust me.
PS. Of course, if your 'child' moves back into your house after college, 'temporarily', that is an entirely different emotional experience.
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re the PS- HA!!
3
Great essay. Sounds like you are doing a great job as a parent. Your son is not sitting in his room all day with his laptop, afraid of the real world, he's independent and taking on life's challenges.
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It's always comforting to know that there are other mom's in the world who are mourning the loss of their children growing up and leaving. Right now I am getting ready to drop off my third, and last, child to college, on the other side of the country no less. I have been anticipating this day since I birthed him. And here it is. To say "I wish I had more time" is an understatement. Self-indulgent, maybe, but it is mine.
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Thank you for this wonderful essay. I'm going to mop up my tears now, step away from my computer and go give my daughter a hug.
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Thank you for articulating my own sadness as I prepare for my 16 year old son to start weekly boarding school - he will be home at the weekends only. We weren’t sure he would go, and I’m not quite prepared for him to leave. It isn’t the dramatic cleaving of dropping off a kid at university, but it is the beginning of my children migrating out of my home, and definitely the beginning of the end of a chapter of my own life. It seems ridiculous to call it grief, but yet, it’s what I feel. Much love to you and your family- this was a beautiful piece of writing.
20
A lovely piece of writing. How can we justify feeling loss or sadness over life's small changes when the world around us is enduring unbearable losses? Beautifully balanced answer here.
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Lovely article and a gentle reminder to savor every milestone moment with your child!
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The inevitability of change (at the most basic level: birth and death) is the reason traditions exist. Traditions allow us to remember and frame episodes of periods of time. And the dramatis personae go and come and, with that, the traditions evolve. When you have very elderly parents, you know that some Christmas (or other holiday with strong liminal associations and traditions) will be the last with one and then the other. If you have siblings, there may well be a tussle over evolving new traditions....
22
This is pure magic. I am grappling with a lot of these feelings - even though my son is all of 20 months, he has already started 'rejecting' me for bigger prizes. Also, as a depression survivor of 17 years, the constant guilt of indulging in my minor griefs over other people's epic sadnesses is all too familiar. Thank you for writing this.
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@Tanmoy
beautifully said.
4