Picture above courtesy of Kamelia Photography 2014
By Mahshid Hager
When my kids were younger, I thought there would come a time when I didn’t worry about them so much. I thought once they are in their teens and can be alone and take care of their basic needs, I wouldn’t worry any more. I remember telling my mom this during some tumultuous time a few years back. She said: “You’re in your 30’s and I still worry about you.” I said: “But you don’t worry about me as much, right?!” She just smiled a knowing smile.
I am now in my mid 40’s and the boys are well into their teen years. I have come to find out that the worrying changes in quality and not in quantity. Yes, I worry less about what trouble they might get into if I leave them alone at home for a few hours. I don’t have to worry about them getting lost while we’re out and about. I don’t worry as much about them getting sick or getting bent and bruised…. These days my worries are more about broken hearts and unfulfilled dreams and more serious harm (They are both driving these days….) Will they find their passion in life? Will they find a love that feels spacious and supportive and reciprocal? Will they make it through school okay and find a job that is inline with their path in life…?
Once my oldest started driving, the worrying took on a whole new shape and form. He is tall, looks older than his age, supports a decent sized Afro and loves his rap music. I’d be lying to you if I told you that I didn’t worry about him being discriminated against. I have wondered what kind of trouble he could get into if he was pulled over by the “wrong cop” or was confronted by the wrong kind of person on the road. As the stories of Treyvon Martin and Michael Brown and Levar Jones circulate the news, I can’t help but worry about what if that was my kid? What if that was one of my brown skinned, hoodie wearing, music blasting kids? Would they know how not to escalate the situation? Would they be treated fairly? I have had extensive conversations with both of my kids about this, despite my annoyance at having to have these types of conversations to begin with. They know how to walk away from a dicey situation, they know how not to escalate a threatening situation, they know to respect the police and they know their rights. Problem is, I’m not sure any of that will help them if they are faced with someone who is hellbent on hurting them….And so I worry.
As I’m writing this, my 17-year-old joins me at the dining table and asks me what I’m writing about. After I tell him, he spontaneously starts sharing some of his worries with me. I am struck by how similar they are to mine.
I get his permission to share:
He worries about school and how to navigate his responsibilities with his desire to be more social. He worries about his younger brother, now that he is driving too. He worries about his girlfriend and wants her to be okay.
His next worry takes my breath away. “I worry about dying young” he says.
“What makes you worried about that?!” I ask.
“Well Miguel died young.” Miguel was his humanities teacher. He died suddenly last year at a very young age. Now I remember how much I worried about my son as he grieved the loss of his favorite teacher. Watching my child struggle with these big emotions was excruciating. I couldn’t just make it better, the same way I used to when they were little. All I could do to comfort him was to sit with him and offer to listen.
And I guess this is the moral of the story in a way. The things we worry about are outside of our control. We can try to safeguard against them but at some point, we have to let go. And we let go over and over again. All we can do is reiterate that we are here, should they need us and we will do our best to be helpful if we can.
I’m starting to get a sense of what my mom meant when she said “I still worry about you”. The worry never stops, but it changes in quality.
My sons gets up from the table and says “”I’m headed out to grab some food and pick up a friend.”
“Sounds good” I say. “See you soon and please drive safe.” I let go once more.
