To the Parents Feeling a Little Lost Right Now

Liz Stapp
1 day ago
6 min read

Updated: 11 hours ago

A letter for those watching the door close behind their graduating senior

You're Not Alone. This season can feel like emotional whiplash. One moment, you’re ordering graduation announcements. The next, you’re wandering around your own house, wondering who you are without the noise, the schedules, the homework help, the baseball games, the piles of shoes by the front door.

You're proud. Of course you are. But also? You’re exhausted, maybe a little wrecked. You feel this ache in your chest because you know a chapter is ending. Not just for them. For you. This is what we’ve worked for. What we’ve prayed for. But nobody talks about how strange it feels when the parenting you’ve done for 18 years, day in, day out, starts to shift. It’s a disorienting but sacred rite of passage.

This is the Year of “Lasts”

Last week, I watched my son take his last swing in his high school baseball game. I’ve been watching him play since he was three. He always wanted to be where the action was. Back then, as he was supposed to be playing first base, he’d take off running to wherever the ball went. We had to start drawing a box in the sand to keep him anchored to his position. He was just so excited to play, so eager to be part of it all, he couldn’t help himself.

During his last game? Just as excited as he was then. That felt good as a parent: to know he still loved the sport. That he laughed, competed, got dirty, learned how to lead, how to fail, and how to dust himself off in every sense. That he still played for joy.

The other morning was another “last.” I sat on the front steps with our dog, Duncan, and waved to my son as he pulled out of the driveway for school. It’s what I’ve done for years, from booster seat days until now. One last wave. And it broke me a little, just like I knew it would.

You're Not Crazy. You're Paying Attention

There’s joy in this season. But also? Grief. This in-between space, when one door is closing and the next hasn’t quite opened, is uncomfortable. I’ve heard it described as a parental crucifixion. Something old dies. Something new begins. We don’t talk about it much, but every parent I know asks the same quiet questions in the middle of the night:

Did I say everything I needed to?
Did I prepare them?
Will they be okay?

You lie there, wondering:

Did I remind them to take care of their friends who’ve had too much to drink? That someone needs to be the one who stays sober and gets everyone home? That they have a safe harbor with me, always, if it means they're prioritizing their or another's safety? (Just don't expect me to be happy to receive that 3am wake up call.)

Did I tell them that fentanyl is everywhere? That it takes just one pill? This isn’t an urban myth. Several years ago, when I was still a professor at CU, a student, thinking he was taking a Percocet, overdosed and died. It turned out to be fentanyl. One pill is all it takes. There's no "safe" experimenting with drugs, especially those in pill or powder form.

Did I explain that a “no” means “hell no,” a “maybe” means “hell no," and if either person has been drinking, it’s definitely a "hell no"? That a “yes” means double-check? Oh, and that a yes one time does not mean that it's forever a "yes"?

And then there are the small-but-everyday things:

Go to class. Even when you're tired.
Shower. It helps.
Floss. Your future self will thank you.
Make your bed. Accomplishing things begets more accomplishments throughout the day.

What We Hope They Carry With Them

Happiness isn’t the goal. Life won’t always feel good. That’s normal. What matters is meaning. Here are some things I hope my kids carry with them as they build lives of purpose:

If you’re sad or lonely, serve someone else. There’s always someone who needs a hand. It gets you out of your head.
Be generous and kind. But be wise. Not everyone is your friend. Not everyone deserves your full self. "Above all else, guard your heart...."
Your character is how you treat people who can’t do anything for you. Especially the ones you think don’t deserve it. This one is really hard. But who said life was easy?
Don’t cheat in college. Ever. If you need more time, talk to your professor before the deadline. Take the bad grade if you have to, but don’t compromise your integrity. That stays with you. And once it's gone, it's hard to rebuild. The consequences of cheating can be life-altering. Again, this is not an urban myth. When I was a professor at CU, several seniors were caught cheating…in an ethics capstone. Just days before their graduation, they had to call their parents (and their soon-to-be employers) and tell them that they would not, in fact, be graduating.

Practical Life Tools

I also hope my kids take a few practical pieces of advice with them:

Learn to read financial statements. A balance sheet. An income statement. A cash flow statement. Regardless of your future career plans, you need to understand finance and accounting at a basic level. Your future self, your boss, and your partners will all thank you. Start with any of the 100 free YouTube tutorials out there, like this one: “Financial Statements: All the Basics in 8 Minutes.”
Open a Roth IRA. You can do this online in 15 minutes. Fidelity, Schwab, or Vanguard are all great options.
Avoid gambling. If you want to gamble and hit it big, see #2. Assuming an average return of 8% annually, if you invest $1000 of earned income starting at 18 until you’re 65, you’ll have $452,900 when you’re 65. Invest $2000, you’ll have $905,800. Invest $3000 annually, and you’ll have $1,358,700. This won’t give you the same dopamine hit or adrenaline rush as roulette, but you’ll sleep better.
Budget. Say no to yourself sometimes. You’ll want things you can’t afford. Walk past them. That’s how you grow. Learn to live conservatively. Need help getting started? Try EveryDollar (it's free) or Monarch.
Designate a sober friend. If you and your friends are drinking, be the one who gets everyone home safely. Have a non-negotiable plan that is set before anyone drinks.
Don’t take pills from anyone. Ever. (This one bears repeating.) Have Narcan in your medicine box. There are ways to get it for free. Like a fire extinguisher, you'll likely never need it, but will be glad you have it if you do.
Don’t ask your parents for money. That is, unless you’ve checked in just to say hi in the past week.
Treat your parents like people. Not ATMs. Not personal assistants. Not emotional dumping grounds. They’re still your home base, but they’re human too. Occasionally, ask them what's going on in their lives. Don't interrupt. Just listen.
Earn your own money. Freedom and purpose can only be achieved when you are financially independent. It feels good to work hard. There’s honor in effort.
Create a resume and LinkedIn profile now. Constantly update it with items as you do them. It’s way easier than having to pull one together at the last minute when an opportunity strikes.

What They Need Most: Space to Grow

At the W.W. Reynolds Foundation, we talk a lot about helping young people live lives of meaning through personal responsibility, strong character, and contributions to the greater good. These are a part of our core pillars, and they’re not just institutional ideals. They’re personal. They’re what we hope for our own kids, too.

They won’t always get it right. That’s part of the deal. Our job now is to back off just enough to let them learn what we already know: Life is hard. People are messy. You'll be disappointed. Money runs out. Choices have consequences. And yet, living meaningful lives is worth the effort.

At the Foundation, we invest in young people learning how to live lives of character and contribution. But this phase of life, watching our own kids step out, fall down, try again, is the frontline of that same mission. It's personal. It's humbling. And it matters.

You're Still Parenting

This next chapter isn’t about being less involved. It’s about being differently involved. You’re no longer the driver. You’re the person in the rearview mirror. You’re the one whose voice they’ll hear in the quiet moments, even if they never admit it.

Keep showing up. Quietly. Faithfully. Send the texts. Answer the calls. Let them fall. Pick them up when they really need it. But first, encourage them to try to fix things themselves. Keep reminding them who they are and what you believe they’re capable of becoming.

Parenting doesn’t end. It just grows up. And so do we.

If you know another parent who’s standing in this same doorway, pass this along. None of us was meant to do this alone.

What an honor it is to love someone enough to let them go.

With gratitude for this chapter and the next,

Liz Stapp

A letter for those watching the door close behind their graduating senior

This is the Year of “Lasts”

During his last game? Just as excited as he was then. That felt good as a parent: to know he still loved the sport. That he laughed, competed, got dirty, learned how to lead, how to fail, and how to dust himself off in every sense. That he still played for joy.

The other morning was another “last.” I sat on the front steps with our dog, Duncan, and waved to my son as he pulled out of the driveway for school. It’s what I’ve done for years, from booster seat days until now. One last wave. And it broke me a little, just like I knew it would.

You're Not Crazy. You're Paying Attention

Did I say everything I needed to?

Did I prepare them?

Will they be okay?

You lie there, wondering:

Did I explain that a “no” means “hell no,” a “maybe” means “hell no," and if either person has been drinking, it’s definitely a "hell no"? That a “yes” means double-check? Oh, and that a yes one time does not mean that it's forever a "yes"?

And then there are the small-but-everyday things:

Go to class. Even when you're tired.

Shower. It helps.

Floss. Your future self will thank you.

Make your bed. Accomplishing things begets more accomplishments throughout the day.

What We Hope They Carry With Them

Happiness isn’t the goal. Life won’t always feel good. That’s normal. What matters is meaning. Here are some things I hope my kids carry with them as they build lives of purpose:

If you’re sad or lonely, serve someone else. There’s always someone who needs a hand. It gets you out of your head.

Be generous and kind. But be wise. Not everyone is your friend. Not everyone deserves your full self. "Above all else, guard your heart...."

Your character is how you treat people who can’t do anything for you. Especially the ones you think don’t deserve it. This one is really hard. But who said life was easy?

Practical Life Tools

I also hope my kids take a few practical pieces of advice with them:

Open a Roth IRA. You can do this online in 15 minutes. Fidelity, Schwab, or Vanguard are all great options.

Budget. Say no to yourself sometimes. You’ll want things you can’t afford. Walk past them. That’s how you grow. Learn to live conservatively. Need help getting started? Try EveryDollar (it's free) or Monarch.

Designate a sober friend. If you and your friends are drinking, be the one who gets everyone home safely. Have a non-negotiable plan that is set before anyone drinks.

Don’t take pills from anyone. Ever. (This one bears repeating.) Have Narcan in your medicine box. There are ways to get it for free. Like a fire extinguisher, you'll likely never need it, but will be glad you have it if you do.

Don’t ask your parents for money. That is, unless you’ve checked in just to say hi in the past week.

Treat your parents like people. Not ATMs. Not personal assistants. Not emotional dumping grounds. They’re still your home base, but they’re human too. Occasionally, ask them what's going on in their lives. Don't interrupt. Just listen.

Earn your own money. Freedom and purpose can only be achieved when you are financially independent. It feels good to work hard. There’s honor in effort.

Create a resume and LinkedIn profile now. Constantly update it with items as you do them. It’s way easier than having to pull one together at the last minute when an opportunity strikes.

What They Need Most: Space to Grow

They won’t always get it right. That’s part of the deal. Our job now is to back off just enough to let them learn what we already know: Life is hard. People are messy. You'll be disappointed. Money runs out. Choices have consequences. And yet, living meaningful lives is worth the effort.

At the Foundation, we invest in young people learning how to live lives of character and contribution. But this phase of life, watching our own kids step out, fall down, try again, is the frontline of that same mission. It's personal. It's humbling. And it matters.

You're Still Parenting

This next chapter isn’t about being less involved. It’s about being differently involved. You’re no longer the driver. You’re the person in the rearview mirror. You’re the one whose voice they’ll hear in the quiet moments, even if they never admit it.

Keep showing up. Quietly. Faithfully. Send the texts. Answer the calls. Let them fall. Pick them up when they really need it. But first, encourage them to try to fix things themselves. Keep reminding them who they are and what you believe they’re capable of becoming.

Parenting doesn’t end. It just grows up. And so do we.

If you know another parent who’s standing in this same doorway, pass this along. None of us was meant to do this alone.

What an honor it is to love someone enough to let them go.

With gratitude for this chapter and the next,

Liz Stapp