Today is Roscoe's last day at home. Every passing comment he makes feels laden with significance.
Roscoe: "Thanks for the veggie burger, Mom."
Me: *sniff sniff*
It's hard not to wax dramatic about how after today our family will never be the same, never be as together. Thinking of coming home tomorrow and seeing his car in the driveway, his empty room. Thinking of Betsy saying goodbye to him, the empty kitchen chair, Logan alone on a Saturday night...
Last night we had a beautiful Family Home Evening. Mark and I decided we want to help all the kids think of Roscoe's mission as something great that they are all contributing to. We reminded them of the great things our family has accomplished as a team--being a foster family, helping Mark finish his Ph.D., supporting Mark in the bishopric--and the extra sense of blessing, purpose, and unity we had as a result. Mark told the story of the first McGees to encounter missionaries. We talked about how Mark's family and my family both came to the gospel through missionaries and the huge rippling waves of lives that have been blessed as a result. It was a beautiful evening.
When Roscoe was born, I thought his birth was the hardest thing I had ever done. It changed me forever. Put me in a new place in the world. It was hard. But completely worth it. And I've done many hard things since.
Ditto sending my firstborn out of the nest. I think dropping Roscoe off on the cub will be the hardest thing I have ever done. It'll put our family in an entirely different context. But it's completely worth it, and I hope to do the exact same thing several more times.