By Dr. Herman M. Lagon
The day my daughter, Psyche Mae, first left for Arizona last year, the tug of letting go felt like a monumental struggle. At 28, she was full of dreams and aspirations, ready to teach and explore new horizons. The emotional weight was overwhelming as I watched her prepare for this new chapter. Leaving her in Manila to wait for her visa felt like an abrupt end to an era. My heart ached as if gasping for breath, yet I knew it was a necessary step for her growth and independence.
This year, the scenario played out differently. She returned to the Philippines for a brief visit, a whirlwind of family gatherings, and a more-than-a-week escapade to Singapore, Malaysia, and Manila for her, myself, and her sister, Parvane Mae. This time, she brought along her newly found partner, Vincent, who now shared her life. Seeing her confident and content, ready to return to the US with her husband, filled me with a different emotion—one less heavy, more accepting.
As parents, we struggle with letting go. After years of loving, protecting, and guiding our children, they must leave us. Pride mixed with profound loss is a bittersweet experience. This departure felt like a rite of passage, unlike last year’s trial by fire.
The parties and our tri-country adventure were more than just celebrations. They were a testament to her journey and growth. Watching her seize the moment with her sister, who also deserves such a respite after four sleepless years in medical school, and Psyche’s seven-year ex-boyfriend, now better half, I realized how far we had come. My little girl is now a fully grown, strong, and independent woman, building her own family and carving out her path.
I found letting go easier the second time. Perhaps it was seeing her happy or knowing she had found a loving partner. It could be the familiarity of the process after the initial heartache. Whatever the reason, this goodbye was gentle rather than painful.
As I reflect on this journey, the grace of letting go comes to mind. We fear losing our blessings and hold them tightly. However, true stewardship or inner freedom in the context of Ignatian spirituality means acknowledging that everything we have is a gift to be treasured and released. Time and practice make it easier, deepening understanding and acceptance.
The values and lessons I, her loved ones, mentors, and friends taught my daughter show in her agency and empowerment. They also show her strength and resilience, which have grown over time. Her return to the US inspires deep trust in her abilities. Her grit to teach in a foreign land and still hope to take her doctorate online is a testament to her commitment to lifelong learning. I know she will overcome and embrace life’s challenges and opportunities gracefully.
Letting go is a universal parent experience. It is a given in our job description, and we cope with our children’s absence and celebrate their successes in our peculiar, contextual ways. Introspection, prayer, and acceptance are encouraged as we take comfort in laying a solid foundation for their future.
Though I will miss her, I know this separation is temporary, even a flash in the pan. Our love and memories have kept us together. Letting go means letting her thrive, not cutting ties. For all parents must let go and, like many others like me, I accept it with open arms, knowing my love and support are always there. I relax, knowing she will fly high with my heart.
The goal is to strengthen our relationship, not say goodbye. “I love you, no matter where life takes you,” I whisper and hug her one last time. “Stay driven yet grounded. I’m always available via message or video to offer advice, support, or listen 24-7.”
Letting go the second time around has been a revelation. It shows the lasting power of a parent’s love, a journey filled with growth, acceptance, and unconditional support. As she starts this new chapter, I feel immense pride and joy, confident that, with the strong core values she carries with her, she will continue to thrive and succeed wherever life’s path may lead her.
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Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.
