Goodbye and Good Luck
When your children leave your nest
This has got to be the hardest thing I have ever written. I can hardly see the keyboard as the tears stream down my cheeks and drip onto my t-shirt, leaving a pattern like raindrops. It was your graduation dinner on Friday night, but what it actually means has only hit me today. The time is fast approaching for me to say, "Goodbye and Good Luck." I don't know if I am going to be able to do it. I don't know if I am going to be able to let go. This is worse than the ending of a relationship or a marriage. It is time for you to leave my nest.
I have so many memories, my brain is not big enough to store them all. Most of the memories are good ones, that's what makes it so hard to say goodbye and good luck.
I remember the day you were born, as you escaped from my womb and entered the world, you had an erection and peed all over your father, the doctor and the midwives.
I remember that you were so tall the newborn babygros in the maternity ward could not fit you.
I remember that when you were circumsized on the 8th day, your liver could not cope with the medication and you slept for 3 days and we had to force-feed you while you slept.
I remember that you took your first steps at your first birthday party, so that you could get to another table to get more chips.
I remember the fevers and the allergy to penicillin.
I remember that the workers on the farm called you Mpundus because you always climbed under the ladies' skirts and pinched their bums.
I remember the tree houses you built and how you used to wee in my potplants in the house.
I remember how you always managed to get more food on your face and on your clothes than in your mouth.
I remember you falling on the cactus plant and everything going septic.
I remember when I tried to teach you manners and I asked, "What is the magic word?" and you replied, "Abracadabra."
I remember when you picked up a rat dying from rat poison and said you'd found Mickey Mouse, and then it bit you.
I remember when I was your kindergarten teacher, and you hid under the table and asked another kid in your class to play, Jesus Jesus, with you. I stopped what I was doing as I was intrigued as to how one played, Jesus Jesus. then you said to the boy, "So Nigel, do you want to bless the people or do you want to die on the cross?" I quickly ended the game.
I remember your huge appetite for food and love. It hasn't lessened over the years.
I remember watching you play sport, and aching myself, ever time you went down in a tackle.
I remember comforting you when you were down and holding you the nights when you were scared and had nightmares.
I remember how you were almost one of my best supporters in everything I did.
I remember you always finishing the last of the juice in the fridge without any thought that someone else might like some.
I remember your first day at work when you were 14 and pretending to be 18, and teaching English at a Thai school.
I remember that every pair of jeans you owned had holes in the knees.
I remember how you scared away all my boyfriends as you didn't want to share me with another man.
I remember how you fell through the window at school and landed on your girlfriend and broke her nose.
I remember how when your science teacher jokingly said it was cocaine sniff it, you sniffed citric acid and burnt your nasal membranes.
I remember the scars you got from the time when you tried all the Jackass stunts with your friends and wanted to be a stuntman.
I can remember Sunday mornings when you'd jump on my bed and we'd play WWF Wrestling as you wanted to become a professional wrestler.
I remember the times you got into trouble at school and I got called in.
I remember the little boy with white-blonde hair and huge curls that was so hyperactive and got into everything.
I remember the first time you felt you had to shave even though there was nothing visible there.
I remember your impersonations of lady boys offereing their services and Arab carpet sellers, which would have me laughing so much I cried.
I remember when you told me what you were up to with the 26 year old Korean woman when you were only 14.
I remember how you annoyed the hell out of your sisters.
I remember how you taught Oscar the black labrador, how to play rugby.
I remember when you thought it would be cool to get your hair braided in Thailand.
I remember your kindness and caring you show to everybody, except maybe your sisters.
I remember that when that lady boy tried to kiss you in Thailand, you went straight to the hairdresser and had your hair cut short.
I remember your frustration every time we go on holiday and you have to carry all the heavy bags like a pack horse, how can with travel without you?
But what I remember the most, is how you always seem to bounce around the house like a huge puppy dog, making me laugh when I'm down, your random and often inappropriate comments which are so funny, and how you've bought joy and laughter into my life. How am I going to live without that?
I know that the future beckons and soon you'll start at the Hotel School and forget about your life with me. You are anxious to get going, even though you still can't cook or make a sandwich and will rather go hungry than make something for yourself to eat. It breaks my heart to do this, to cut you loose and watch you fly off somewhere to build your own nest.
Goodbye and good luck my little boy. I love you so much.
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