Worry, One Of My Favourite Articles

Worry                                    

                                                                                          

Is there a magic cut off period when
offspring become accountable for their own
actions? Is there a wonderful moment when
parents can become detached spectators in
the lives of their children and shrug, "It's
their life," and feel nothing?

   When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital
corridor waiting for doctors to put a few
stitches in my son's head.  I asked, "When do

you stop worrying?"  The nurse said, "When

they get out of the accident  stage." My mother

just smiled faintly and said nothing.

    When I was  in my thirties, I sat on a little
chair in a classroom and heard how one of my
children talked incessantly, disrupted the class,
and was headed for a career making license plates.

    As if to read my mind, a teacher said, "Don't

worry, they all go through this stage and then you

can sit back, relax and enjoy them." My mother just
smiled faintly and said nothing.

   When I was in my forties, I spent a lifetime waiting

for the phone to ring, the cars to come home, the

front door to open.  A friend said, "They're trying to

find themselves.  Don't worry, in a few years, you can

stop worrying. They'll be adults." My mother just

smiled faintly and said nothing.

   By the time I was 50, I was sick & tired of being
vulnerable. I was still worrying over my children, but

there was a new wrinkle there was nothing I could do

about it. My mother just smiled  faintly and said nothing.

I continued to anguish over their failures, be tormented

by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments.

   My friends said that when my kids got married I could

stop worrying and lead my own life. I wanted to believe

that, but I was haunted by my mother's warm smile and her
occasional, "You look pale. Are you all right? Call me the

minute  you get home. Are you depressed about something?

"
   Can it be that parents are sentenced to a lifetime of worry?

Is concern for one another handed down like a torch to blaze

the trail of human frailties and the fears of the unknown? Is

concern a curse or is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest

form of life?
   One of my children became quite irritable recently, saying to

me, "Where were you?  I've been calling for 3 days, and no

one answered. I was worried." I  smiled a warm smile.

The torch has been passed.