When It's Over

Just because it was over didn't necessarily mean it was over for me too.

Most every woman has experienced something in their life to which that sentence could apply. In my case, this time, it was when The Boy broke up with his First Serious Girlfriend.

He had girlfriends while growing up. Not many, but a few. Those other girls, those before the First Serious Girlfriend, were like, well, like warm up. Training wheels. Starter chicks maybe. Yeah that works. Starter chicks. Too crass? Oh well.

I knew those Starter Chicks, of course. Blips on the radar screen of his life. I enjoyed them while they were around but I did not necessarily miss them when they were gone.

Only one were we truly glad to see go. The one he dated the end of his junior year in high school. She was trouble, oh yes indeed. All sweet smiles and parent pleasing politeness on the outside, but we could see right through that---right through to her troublemaking lead-a-good-boy-astray heart. Evil, evil I say! Well okay, fine. I'm being a bit melodramatic. But a parent can tell. And that girl was trouble. Wendy and I breathed a sigh of relief when that one was over.

When he started dating the one who would be the First Serious Girlfriend, I had a sense from the very beginning that she was different from the others. And she was. Different I mean. She had a sparkle about her, a twinkle in her eye. The way The Boy looked at her was different. She put an extra twinkle in his eye too.

As parents, Wendy and I were along for the ride. We embraced the First Serious Girlfriend as part of our family and I let her into my own heart. I was happy for them. I was happy for The Boy. I was happy he had learned somehow somewhere along the way to open his heart. I was happy he was foolish brave enough. I was happy she was foolish brave enough also. They were good together, she and he.

But I'm not writing about how sweet their relationship was. Not really. Although I doubt I would have ever felt attached to her if their relationship had not been sweet. Don't misunderstand me, I had no delusions of happily ever after or marriage or growing old together. They were teenagers, just beginning the adventure of life.

Romance. It was all about being young and first love and exploring the possibilities of one's heart. Sharing. The kind of sharing that adds a prismatic dimension to life. A twelfth-of-never dimension. It's the dimension where hearts soar, mindless and uncaring of dangers lying ahead. No fear, just euphoria and lightness. Remember young love? I hope you do.

I was shocked at how bereft I felt when, after a year and a half of involvement, the relationship ended. It didn't matter how much it surprised me (a bit but not really) or how sudden I may have felt it was (there were some advance clues) or how I wasn't prepared (hadn't realized I needed to prepare) or how I may have wished for something different (not sure I did or do). It wasn't my decision to make. It wasn't about me at all.

We were just along for the ride, remember?

So the delightful young lady Wendy and I both enjoyed knowing was suddenly relegated to a removed status. I'm still not sure what to do with that. I wonder sometimes if she misses us, too. I wonder why it matters to me. Not in an obsessive way, more in a contemplative life oddity kind of way. Can't help it that it does, however.

I'd like to not go through this process every time The Boy breaks up with someone. It is suddenly important for me to have a plan. Over the holidays, his new girlfriend came to visit. A lovely young lady, but how much of her do I let in?

I can't be the only one with this dilemma.
Or am I?