As we age…we let go more. Each time a child leaves for college, I mourn. When it’s so painful to separate from my teens and young adults, how much more difficult was it for Mary to leave her little girls?

“Even as an infant, one friend joked that he was the plutonium baby, so heavy, dense, and strong. As soon as he could walk, he started throwing balls and carrying sticks around.”

“Just imagine — five girls, five shampoo bottles, five conditioner bottles, five bottles of body wash, five scrubbies, and all those towels…Part of me longs to smooth everything over and see that her college experience is perfect. I wish I could choose her friends, take care of her finances, make sure she’s eating well, and help her select her classes.”

We’ve long stopped seeing our kids through rose-colored glasses. When I hear parents say things like, “Well, I know my child never drinks or smokes,” I silently respond, “hmm, you think you know.”

Remember those days of snuggling and oneness, when you and your babe were inseparable? Especially when my kids were little, I felt like I was living with great works of art: surprising, inspiring, evolving, sublime works of art. Each new word, each new development was a wonder. As they grow older, they remain sublime, but their development is more inward, and we don’t get to witness it daily.

He looks like one of us: broad cheekbones, full lips, olive complexion. He could be a younger brother or cousin. He could be my son… When I hear his life story and read his writings, I begin to identify with the tragic figure of Seung-Hui Cho.