Sidelined in the Best Way to Prepare for Our New Role

what's helping me move (and groove) through the post-graduation grief

One week after graduation, the reality hit me.

My youngest daughter – the one whose inner wiring feels most like my own – is leaving home. No more day-to-day presence. No more “Mom!” cheerfully yelled as the front door swings open. No more unprompted hugs in the kitchen. Just… space.

I thought I’d be fine. The busy months leading up to graduation had deceived me. I’d stayed so focused on planning, preparing, celebrating. But an ordinary walk one week after graduation cracked the illusion. Suddenly I was gasping through sobs, leaving a tearful audio message for my friend Carrie, who also has a 2025 high school graduate.

“I just needed to tell someone how I was feeling,” I explained, not expecting her to respond within minutes with the exact assurance I needed.

As soon as I got home, I changed my personal Facebook profile picture to reflect what was on my mind. Captioning the picture of Avery and me after graduation, I vulnerably wrote:

“One-week post-graduation, and the reality is hitting me… she’s leaving. I’m going to miss Avery’s presence in the day-to-day so much. And since she’s not much of a texter, I’ll have to hope for a phone call every once in a while! Thanks to my friend, Carrie, who reminded me that having something so good is what makes saying goodbye so hard.”

What I didn’t expect was the flood of thoughtful responses. As I read through them, I paid attention to how each reply felt in my body.

Some spurred tension: too much "look on the bright side!" energy, the kind I try not to offer others when they are hurting. But others helped me breathe again. The ones that said:

· Your feelings are valid.

· You’re not alone.

· Here are some ways my young adult children and I stay connected.

Once again, my friend Carrie showed up, writing, “We will get through this, and we will find new ways to connect with our kids. You taught me that THE LOVE is constant — on that we can rely, it will never falter, and it will always be there. Now we can breathe when we remember that.”

Receiving such genuine care from friends and family who had watched Avery grow up over the years sparked a self-compassionate realization:

I have not lived a single day in the past 18 years without this child woven into it. I need to mourn that before I can look forward.

‘You’ll get there. In your own time,’ I assured myself.

And I did.

The moment came—unsuspectingly—during another walk outside.

It was Tuesday afternoon. A catchy song popped into my ears: “Boo Thang” by Paul Russell.

It transported me straight back to a completely different moment: my older daughter Natalie’s first triathlon. That race was never in her original plan. It only happened because her Plan A fell apart with a college closure, and she had to make something new.

I remember exactly where I was standing—by the bike transition area, roped off from the athletes. “Boo Thang” came on just as Natalie sped past me, ponytail swinging, eyes finding mine, smiling as she pedaled into the next segment of the race.

I saw her—my grown daughter—but also the little girl who once reminded us so much of Boo from Monsters Inc.

And there it was: a glorious moment I hadn’t even seen coming.

An unexpected comfort settled over me as I realized: I can’t even begin to imagine what comes next. Here I am, standing at an experience she no longer needs me to be part of—but still wants me there. Her life is hers now. My role in it hasn’t ended; it’s simply shifting to the sidelines.

I can’t help but believe there will be a future moment like this with Avery, too.

Perhaps she’ll even have her own song that marks that moment.

Until then, I’ve decided to play that transportive song whenever sadness is on me. I’ll wait for the bridge, my favorite part of the song, where Paul Russell samples The Emotions' classic:

“Whoa, whoa… you got the best of my love.”

I will sing that part at the top of my lungs, as if to underscore the comforting truth that:

LOVE is the constant—
the sacred bond time can’t touch,
that distance doesn’t dim,
that bodies never outgrow,
even as they grow up.

Someone of us may find ourselves on the sidelines now, watching them go,
but our voice, our eyes, our love—they never falter.

Now we can breathe when we remember that.

My hand in yours,
Rachel

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🌱 If you’re navigating a season of change, letting go, or becoming…
You’re not alone. So many of us are standing in the space between what was and what’s next—grieving, growing, and trying to figure out who we are now.

That’s one reason I’m especially grateful to have two meaningful in-person community gatherings coming up this fall. They’ve given me something to look forward to – and I’d love to share that experience with you, too.

🌄 Red Rocks Small Group Travel Adventure – September 2025
This Utah adventure sold out quickly, but it’s been such a source of joy to plan and anticipate. If you'd like to join me for a future trip (hello, 2026!), be sure to get on the interest list by clicking here.

🌿 Only Love Today: A Restorative Retreat for Givers – November 7-9, 2025 Art of Living Retreat Center (NC)
This soul-soothing weekend is for those who give deeply and often forget to receive. We’ll rest, reflect, and reconnect with the parts of ourselves we’ve put on hold. There’s still space to join us—learn more or sign up here.

If today’s story stirred something in you… these gatherings are for you.
Let’s remember we are still becoming—together.

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🌱 Coming Next Week for Paid Subscribers:

If today’s story resonated with you, I have more to share:

✨ A heartfelt list of connection ideas
Gathered from longtime friends and wise voices, these are creative, meaningful ways to stay close with the ones we love—especially when daily life takes us in new directions.

🎧 The Race Day Playlist
The playlist I made for Natalie’s recent Half Ironman—because spectators need soul-filling, energy-lifting music too.

🌳 Zoom Link for our June Treehouse Gathering
I am currently planning my next live teaching (with next-day replay) in the treehouse, and it’s one you won’t want to miss. Details coming next week!

🩷 If you’ve been thinking about becoming a paid subscriber, now is an ideal time. You’ll get access to my personal breakthroughs during this time of transition, live teachings and enlightening interviews with some of my favorite authors, and the kind of community that grows with you. Thank you for supporting my work.