Yesterday was my son’s birthday. He turned 13. We celebrated the day before because his birthday was on a Monday.
It was a fun day. It was good and hard. Good because he had his friends come over. His best friend came over and they played for most of the day. We went shopping and he picked out some clothes. We celebrated with other gifts as well.
It was a hard day because I am constantly more aware of how fast time goes and how quickly my children grow up.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the adults they are becoming. I also grieve. In fact, I wrote about it five years ago as my oldest began to drive and I lost the time driving them to school in the mornings.
In that post, I broached the idea that we can be both happy our kids are growing up—enjoy it even.
And.
We can also grieve it.
I won’t rehash that post here. Instead, I want to share something that we have done with all of our children.
For each child, when they turn 13, I write them a letter.
I do this for several reasons.
First, this is a way for me to tell them all the things that I like about them. Kids can tend to discount a parent’s love because they can feel like it’s something that parents have to do, but they know that not all parents like their kids, because they hang out with their friends. This letter is my opportunity to put in writing what I have been telling them all of their lives: that I truly love and like them.
Secondly, this letter allows me to speak to their identity. It allows me to put into writing and read out loud to them things that they have done to shape the person that they are becoming. If you listen to my podcast, you know I believe kids need three things from their parents: love, affection, and identity. This letter is my chance to speak to my child’s identity. It’s my chance to remind them of things that they’ve done and to express my hopes for them as they grow. By writing it and reading it to them, I am engaging two of their senses. I hope this plants these truths more deeply into their brain.
Lastly, this letter is my way of giving them a tangible promise that I will always love them. With each of the girls, we gave them a piece of jewelry, and with Joey I gave him a pocket knife. I gave him this pocket knife partly because I believe gentlemen should always carry a small knife, and I want to begin to instill that in him.
I also want him to have something physical that will remind him that my love is always my choice. I want to give him something he can touch that will remind him that there is nothing he can do that will cause me to love him more or less than I currently love him.
In ancient times, they would build stones of remembrance. These small gifts, coupled with these letters, are my stones of remembrance for my children.
It is my attempt to remind them that my love is unconditional.
I want to share this with you because I often think parents wonder how they can communicate with their kids, and they sometimes worry they’re failing.
You do not have to be a writer to write these letters.
These aren’t for publication or to be graded. They are simply a means for you to convey your love to your children. I know that it is likely that children will lose the letters, so when my oldest daughter received hers, I gave her one and kept one for myself digitally. I now just keep one for myself and have it set up to be passed on to them when I pass—or if they come to me and ask me for it.
This isn’t the only way to do something like this, but it is a meaningful way that we have found to commemorate 13—the year the transition from being a child to a young man or young woman begins.
I love being able to do this for my children. The gifts don’t have to be extravagant. In fact, two of my daughters lost theirs.
What about you? What have you done to commemorate your child moving from one phase of life to the next? I’d love to hear from you.
If this post resonated with you, would you share it with a friend? Chances are, another parent you know is walking the same road.
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