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The 5 Stages of Saying Goodbye to the Elementary School Years Forever

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The 5 Stages of Saying Goodbye to the Elementary School Years Forever

Last Thursday I sat in an all-purpose room full of other teary-eyed parents and watched my last baby  move up from elementary school to the new frontier of middle school. My time as a mom to a kid in elementary school is officially over.

I will never again go to a Halloween parade, read a story for “secret reader” day, or have to run out to Target at 8:00 pm so I can pretend that my kid actually slumbers in the nice sleep shirt and matching pants with a Mets logo for pajama day and not an old T-shirt of his brother’s and a pair of sweats that come up to his ankles.

No more snacks to pack or turkeys to decorate as a family for the annual Thanksgiving project. Those days are gone for good.

Peter was my last, and I won’t lie, I was getting a tad tired of all of the “mommy homework,” required of the grade school years. The projects I was so excited to do with my first child lost a bit their shine the third time around. I was starting to feel ready for this chapter to close and for the new one of middle school dances, pre-teen angst, and braces to begin.

But as I was waiting for Peter’s bus to bring him home for the very last time on Friday, all I could do was cry and beg for a for a do-over.

In those few moments, (with three kids, a house that is in the middle of a renovation and a deadline for work that had to be met, I had to use the Berlitz course for closure), I went through the Five Stages of Saying Goodbye to the Elementary School Years Forever.

DENIAL: It’s just not possible that six years have gone by this fast. Perhaps I’m only dreaming he is now 11. That would make more sense than going through Kindergarten to fifth grade in what feels like less time than it takes to binge watch all five seasons of Homeland. At any moment I’m going to wake up and get a slobbery kiss from a six-year-old.

ANGER: I should never have started blogging and writing the year he started kindergarten. I have spent so much time concentrating on what my life would be like once my kids no longer needed me that I have completely missed out on the last six years. Why did I need a career anyway? I’ve spent too many days worrying about deadlines and not enough days enjoying every minute of my time with him.This is what I get for rolling my eyes last month when I got the notice that he needed to dress up as his favorite team for sports day. Now his childhood is over, and I have no one to blame but myself.

BARGAINING: I promise to never, ever curse under my breath when I get a note home from school telling me that my darling Peter did not like his snack, and could I please send him in with one tomorrow closer to his liking. I won’t write back that if he didn’t like the goldfish crackers he’s been eating for the last three weeks, he shouldn’t have packed them. (Though I did add a “LOL” and a smiley face.)  The next time I’m asked to collect 20 oatmeal boxes, I will do it lovingly. I’ll never miss a field day again for a conference. Please, just please let him stay little just a bit longer.

DEPRESSION: Well, that’s it. Those sweet days with little ones are over. I’m officially old now. Joe and I should think about putting a down payment on one of those assisted living communities.

ACCEPTANCE: I am grateful for getting to be the one who could be called when there was a problem and the one who could solve most of them. I’m so glad I was the one who could go on field trips to farms and science museums. I wouldn’t trade any of those memories. But, maybe as much as I may miss this time, I am just as ready for this chapter to be over as Peter is. Maybe that’s OK.

As I hit my last stage, Peter’s bus turned the corner. The door opened and for the very last time he came out of a bus for me to greet him. “Mom, I’m all done with Pulaski. Now I get to go to middle school.”

He is excited and happy about all the new adventures to come. And, truth be told, so am I.

 

 

 

Comments

  1. Janine Huldie says

    Aw, I was emotional last week when my youngest was ending kindergarten and we still have quite a few years of elementary school left, but still can only imagine the emotions I will feel when we get to this point. But definitely think you nailed it that it is a process and stages, as far the feelings that you experience. Hugs and congrats to both you and Peter on this milestone. xoxo <3

    • Kathy Radigan says

      Middle school for Tom was great, so I’m hoping that will be the case for Peter as well. Different kid, different experience. I will say that my friends with boys did seem to have an easier time of it than my friends with girls. I think the girl thing is just so intense. Here’s hoping both our kids have a great middle school experience. But then again, I don’t mean to take you out of your denial. They are still fifth graders!! Lol! xo
      Kathy Radigan recently posted…The 5 Stages of Saying Goodbye to the Elementary School Years ForeverMy Profile

  6. M. E. Matthews says

    I felt the same way when my twins started Kindergarten last year. I was that same mix of not ready and ready. I miss when they were babies but I was ready to move forward and watch them become independent people.

  9. KH says

    I understand sadness. But you will never know true grief until you mourn your child’s death. Every mother who has lost a child is offended by your words.

  10. Rich says

    Really? The 5 stages of grief? Do you have any idea of the number of mothers and fathers who have read this and have actually lost a child ? You’re crying and we are the ones who really know the 5 stages of grief. We remember the child who never got to graduate kindergarten, or elementary school……… Nevermind. I can’t. I really can’t…

  11. Lisa says

    You don’t know hard! How about your child being ripped from this earth 2 weeks before graduation? That’s constant, every minute of every day grief!! This is really so hurtful and insensitive to actual grieving parents. I’ll NEVER get to talk to, see, hug, call, sit with, ANYTHING with my daughter again and you want to talk about depression because your child is going to middle school?!? My child will never wall the stage for graduation. She will never get to attend college. She will never gain a career. She will never plan a wedding or but a wedding dress. She will never buy a house. She will never gave children of her own. Do you need more reasons why this article is a slap in the face to us REAL grieving parents?

  12. Beth says

    Kathy Radigan,

    Grief. You are not grieving. I am. My only child, Jillian, was killed April 22, 2016. Her car was rear ended while broken down by a woman going 65+ mph in a 35 mph zone.

    She was beautiful. And she was only 26.

    There are tens of thousands of us parents out here. I hope you never know what grief really is.

    I don’t get to see her graduate university, fall in love, get married, have children. There are no family get togethers. There are no Thanksgivings, Christmases, birthday celebrations. There are no grandchildren that I will cuddle. There is only grief that comes before the anniversary of her death, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, and her birthday.

    I don’t get to hear, “I love you mommy” ever again.

    Remember Jillian when you get to do all the above with your three sons.

  13. Diane Caruso says

    Grief? Are you kidding me? Talk to someone who has lost a child before you use the word grief.

  14. Beth says

    I applaud you for allowing the comments from all of us who are grieving the loss of a child.

    This first came to my attention via a post from my grief therapist (whom I saw today). She was informed of this blog by her friend, Dr. Joanne Cacciatore. Both of these women have lost a child and both work tirelessly in helping others learn how to carry our grief though counseling, seminars, workshops, and as authors of books on the subject.

    There’d be a lot less of us survivors without the work done by these two women and countless others that understand and are there to help.

    • Kathy Radigan says

      I did not stop the comments because I feel it’s important to allow people to comment, as long as they do it respectfully, which you and the other people did. You have every right to let me know you found my piece objectionable. I feel awful that this piece added to anyone’s pain, if even for a moment. That certainly wasn’t my intention.

      I am very glad that there are amazing people like your therapist, who are helping parents though the worst thing anyone could ever go through.

      But I would like you to understand something. You don’t know me. You probably don’t know that I had five miscarriages before I had my son. Or that all three of my kids have special needs and my daughter has very significant special needs. She will never live on her own, or get married. She will always need round the clock care, because even though she is 15 she has more of the mind of a three or four year old. I spend many nights terrified about what will happen to her when my husband and I are no longer here.

      I write as an outlet, and have been very happy that my work occasionally touches people, especially other parents of special needs children, and has made them smile or let them know they are not alone. This piece was written last year and was on HuffPost without incidence. I knew some of my friends were feeling the things I wrote about and thought they would appreciate this piece. Of course the sadness that a person may feel about their kid growing up doesn’t even come close to what you and the other parents have gone through. But that was my intention. I made a mistake. This piece hit a nerve and I feel horrible for it. I deeply apologize.

      • Tiffany Kaucher says

        Thank you so much Kathy for your compassion. So many are quick to jump on the defense and you didn’t. It shows true character and means so much! I am so very sorry for your losses and comend you for your strength in raising your living children.

  15. Beth says

    Very well put. I was going to reply when I got back home but what Tiffany wrote perfectly expresses my feelings as well.

    Thank you and take care, Kathy.

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Much thanks to Joseph Radigan, who besides being a great husband and father, also uses his talents to gently and ever so tactfully edit my blog. Joe is a business editor at Thomson Reuters in NY.
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