Hansel and Gretel
The difficulty of letting go of growing children as they head toward adulthood
My brother just graduated high school, my sister is officially a teenager, and if this was a Jane Austen novel, I’d be a spinster.
At my brother’s graduation party, I find comfort in my sister’s company away from our guests. We sit on the living room couch, taking in the celebration like spectators. Her brow furrows and she turns to me. “It’s weird to think that you’re my sister,” she says.
“Well, thanks a lot,” I reply, chuckling at her candor.
“No, just because you’re so much older. It’s just weird to think about.”
I could be slighted by her remark, but I have often thought it weird, myself. Being thirteen years older than my brother and over twice my sister’s age has always put me into a weird blend of a sister-slash-mother-figure. Over the years, I have wrestled with my place and role in their lives. I am simultaneously too young and too old to have a straightforward role.
In the fall, my brother will be packing his bags and moving into a dorm across the city. I exhale relief that he did not leave the city, and envision fun get-togethers where we can eat all the good grub on campus, while I also mourn his upcoming departure with the grief of a mother.
My sister, the baby in the family, has started talking about dating and asked for makeup for her last birthday. I cheer her on as a sister and share makeup tips, but dread the upcoming teenage years as only a mother could.
I post a picture from my brother’s high school graduation, and friends reach out to me expressing how unbelievable it is that he’s already eighteen. My mother tells me she suddenly burst into tears while fetching something from my brother’s room. I read articles with titles like How to Cope with a Child Leaving for College and Your Child’s Going to College and You’re a Mess. (My favorite bit of advice in my research has been not to become stagnant and fall down the wormhole of binge-watching Downton Abbey. I make no promises. Downton Abbey makes every a little bit better.)
These changes are unsettling, to say the least. I think of The Brothers Grimm’s Hansel and Gretel when Hansel tries to calm a fearful Gretel in the woods, "Now give me your hand!" he said. "We'll get home safely, you'll see!"
I want to protect them with a ferocity that comes from both the sister and mother parts of me. I don’t want them to go off into the woods on their own. I don’t want to let go.
After all, some witches eat children out there!
~
This summer, as a means of mediation and preparation, I flip through photos and videos of my brother and sister and wonder where the time has gone. Some clichés are there for a reason. Just yesterday my brother had cubby cheeks and sucked his thumb until it turned pale white. Just yesterday my sister was mispronouncing the word “birds” like “buurds” and wearing her hair in pigtail braids every day.
Now, we’re shopping deals on college dorm must-haves and helping them find summer jobs.
This summer feels like not nearly enough time, making it impossible to soak up the warm weather in a carefree manner. The clock is ticking! and there’s a tightness in my chest from all the change. Come fall, my brother will be out of the house and my sister will be starting high school. It’s all too much!
In reminiscing about their youth, I am reminded of the day I went off on my own. I was eighteen, the same age as my brother, and my mother drove the U-Haul truck containing all my belongings two hours until we arrived at my very first apartment with my name on the lease.
On the drive, an Adele song played, and my mother cried. I shook my head and began teasing her about being overly emotional. I wasn’t going away forever, and there would be visits.
She helped me unpack, and while she was reluctant, I sent her on her merry way. That first studio apartment with a kitchen that was about the size of a small walk-in closet is still my favorite to this day. It was intoxicating setting up that space that was just my own. But as the night progressed, a sense of deep loneliness set in. The apartment was quiet and it was just me. There was such uncertainty in that empty space.
That first year of living on my own remained like that - exhilarating new adventures with moments of quiet melancholy.
Will my brother’s first year on his own be the same?
Will he do as I did and come home frequently on the weekends just to eat a home-cooked meal and sleep in a house filled with people? - Boy do I hope so!
The problem is I only want the good for him, as well as my sister. I can’t help it. I don’t want them to feel an ounce of loneliness or face some of the ugliness this world has to offer, as I did.
~
G.K. Chesterton once said, “Fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed.”
No true adventure exists without some amount of fear and obstacles. It’s inevitable. They might not be lured into a house made of sweets, but troubles lurk all the same. They will face challenges and have to overcome them, but what about us parental figures who have to sit back and let them venture forward on their own?
How do we cope with the knowledge that while dragons can be slayed, they can also kill or that witches eat children?
With both my brother and sister, during this time of transition, I drop reminders that I am always there for them, just a call away. It’s important to me that they know they are not going forward completely on their own. If I had my way, and I was Hansel and Gretel’s older sister, I’d much prefer they’d hide out and call upon me to slay the witch. What other duty is there for an older sister, after all?
In the tale, Hansel and Gretel burn the witch and emerge with treasures. I know all I can do is have faith that my siblings will too and I do, even if I am uneasy about the changes that are on the horizon. I have to trust that they have been prepared enough to navigate forward on their own but also understand that they have support from me and others who love them.