There comes a point in every parent’s journey when you realize the scraped knees and broken toys were the easy things to mend. A kiss on the forehead, a new set of batteries, a Band-Aid with cartoon characters those small acts of repair felt like magic. You could swoop in, and in a matter of minutes, the tears would dry, and the world would feel whole again.
But as our children grow, the wounds change. They move from the surface of the skin to the depth of the heart. Disappointments in friendships. Rejections from dreams they worked so hard for. The loneliness of feeling misunderstood. The ache of plans that fell apart. And suddenly, we’re standing in front of pain that no Band-Aid, no magic words, no midnight snack can fix.
It’s one of the hardest truths of parenting realizing that no matter how deeply we love them, we cannot shield them from every hurt. Watching your child navigate heartache is like watching them walk through a storm you can’t stop. You can’t push away the clouds or block the wind. You can only walk beside them, an umbrella in hand, knowing full well it won’t keep all the rain away.
Sometimes, the storm is the disappointment of asking “Why?” why the goal they worked so tirelessly for didn’t work out. Why the hours, the sacrifices, the sweat, and the sleepless nights didn’t end in the victory they imagined. And in those moments, your role isn’t to give them an answer you don’t have, but to stand with them in the rain. To make sure they understand that through it all, they gave 100%, and that alone is worthy of pride.
They are brave not only for chasing the dream, but for facing the finality when it came. For daring to try again after setbacks. For meeting the end with dignity, knowing they didn’t stop because they quit, they stopped because the road bended, and now a new, unknown path is waiting to be explored.
Their loss can never be counted as failure, because they didn’t fail. They kept showing up. They fought against the odds until the very end. And I hope with everything in me that they never look back with regret. Because there’s nothing to regret when you’ve given all you have.
The future is still theirs it’s just hidden right now, wrapped in the uncertainty of the unknown. This is the time to rediscover themselves. To let go of the version of themselves that existed in the dream that’s ended, and to welcome the birth of a new version stronger, wiser, and capable of dreams they haven’t even imagined yet.
Growing into a young adult comes with challenges that no amount of parental preparation can erase. We want to take their hand and guide them to the “right” answer, but life rarely offers one perfect path. And sometimes, the most loving thing we can do is simply remind them that their story doesn’t end at the fork in the road.
Because the truth is, the road will bend again. The chapter will change. There will be laughter they didn’t expect, opportunities they couldn’t see from here, and joys they’ll only discover because they were willing to take a step any step into the unknown.
Our job becomes less about fixing and more about holding space. Holding space for their anger, their grief, their hope, and their dreams. Encouraging them to keep their hearts open, to try something new even when they feel like closing themselves off. Reminding them that endings, as final as they feel, are often beginnings in disguise.
No, we can’t fix every heartache. But we can love them through it. We can be the steady presence that whispers, “Your world hasn’t ended it’s just changing.” And maybe, just maybe, that’s the most important repair we can offer: the quiet reminder that even in their hardest moments, they are never walking alone.
-Maked Mom
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