Sucker punch

So… Alex and I went to see the show that Sean was in on Friday night, and it was great. Then Sean came home for the weekend. He was so tired he could barely stay awake to eat the frozen pizza we popped in the oven after the show.

It was good to know that he could sleep in on Saturday, and then just spend the day in a leisurely fashion — we all did, in fact — getting some work done, and some relaxing done. Claire was away for much of the weekend at play practice and other things, so it was mostly the three of us — but not the three of us who usually constitute the three of us. We had a nice dinner out Saturday night, the three of us, and then watched a movie. Claire came home from a dance eventually, and then she had her own time to chat with Sean.

I’d been fine — really, pretty fine, trying to drink in the calm family time we were having — and then as the two of them were chatting late Saturday night, that’s when the sucker punch of sadness hit me.

As with all good sucker punches, I didn’t see it coming, but there it was: a gut-kicker of gloom as I put away the laundry. Big. Sudden. I felt awful. I was hoping that these feelings wouldn’t happen anymore, but I suppose it’s normal — still — to have them from time to time.

Today I took Sean back to campus before his final show. We stopped for lunch, and I helped him up to his room with his stuff. We hugged, and he tried to pre-empt crying on my part by telling me not to cry. I didn’t. I held it together, even in the elevator, and even in the car.

We — the other three of us, plus my parents — also attended the afternoon show. We got to see Sean afterward, but it was all too brief of a visit before he had to run off.

And so it goes. These visits remind me to be present, to be in the moment when my kids are around, because then they’re gone in a flash.