Adam had a really hard time the first couple of months of kindergarten. He never went to preschool, so the seven hours and fifteen minutes a day he spent away from me was really hard for him.

I did what I could to help with the transition. I put notes in his lunch box and snack bag each day. I put a small picture of the two of us in his backpack for him to look at whenever he needed. I bought a book about a little raccoon that missed his mama raccoon when he went off to school each night (they are nocturnal, you know).

We read the book each and every night before he went to bed. So often in fact, that I ended up memorizing it and would recite it to him each morning on our walk to the bus stop. Before he got on the bus each morning, I would kiss the center of each of his paws, just like the mama raccoon in the book, so that he had those kisses with him all day long.

Some days were harder than others.

There were days when he hopped on the bus with barely a backward glance. And there were days when I sent him up the bus steps and both of us had tears in our eyes.

It was just as hard for me to let go, as it was for him to leave.

All of the sudden he was spending all of this time away from me. He was having experiences, good and bad, that I wasn’t a part of. He was learning so much from classmates, teachers, kids on the bus – people that weren’t me.

And I was mostly okay with it all. I want our children to have wonderful, amazing, truly awesome experiences – both with Dave and me, and without. I knew that sending Adam off to school each day, even on the hard days, was necessary and would eventually get easier for both us.

Plus, it was something I could plan for. I read articles online, printed lunch box notes, and read the raccoon book. I knew what time the bus would pick him up and when it would bring him home again. I did everything I could to make the transition easier for him.

And I really feel like that’s our job as parents, isn’t it? We do our best to prepare them to go out in the world without us. Whether it’s kindergarten, college, or a move across the county, we just do all we can to help them be successful on their own.

I feel like my own parents did an amazing job in that respect. It’s not very humble of me, I know, but I am incredibly proud of the family and the life that Dave and I have created together, and I know it would not have been possible without the example they provided. I would not be the mom I am today without them.

I have learned so much from my parents: be polite to janitors, stand up for yourself, always put family first, be prepared to work for what you want, be a leader (not a follower), keep your ducks in a row, don’t burn the candle at both ends – way too many things to list here.

It turns out though, that the hardest lesson, is one I have to figure out on my own – how to go on without them.

My dad was diagnosed with cancer in November of 2014. He fought it, with everything he had. Unfortunately, in my family we learned a long time ago that cancer doesn’t fight fair, and my dad was taken from us a year later.

And I hate it.

I hate that Adam couldn’t call my dad up on Saturday to tell him all about his basketball game. Adam made two baskets and was named the MVP of the game. Papa would have been the proudest of all.

I hate how terrified Luke was two weeks ago, when I told him I needed to take him to the hospital after he slipped on the ice in our driveway and split his chin open. He thought going to the hospital meant he was going to die. It never crossed my mind that he would link the two stitches he needed to the last time he saw his papa.

I hate that Papa’s Princess (Maggie), my nephews, and any future grandchildren, will only really know my dad through pictures and stories.

It’s hard not to be angry at the unfairness of it all. My mom told me, “You had 36 years with an amazing dad and not everyone can say that.” And she was right (she normally is), but I can’t help feeling cheated. And while I wanted so much more, I am so thankful for the life he gave me, the lessons he taught me, and the memories he left me.

I’m trying not to be so mad, I really am. I know that if I didn’t have such an incredible dad and didn’t love him so much, that this wouldn’t hurt so badly. I’m not alone in this grief, I know my mom, my siblings, and so many others are hurting too. And so, in that respect, this heartache is just a reminder of how lucky we are, to have known such a wonderful man.

And I don’t doubt for a second, that it was just as hard for me to let go, as it was for him to leave.