A New Year, A New Chapter: A Father’s Reflections on Letting Go

January always feels like a fresh start, a chance to recalibrate and reflect on where we’re headed. For my family, this year began with a poignant milestone: helping my son Gavin move into his first apartment in Ottawa, where he’ll pursue his dream of becoming a chef at Le Cordon Bleu. It was a week filled with snowflakes, screwdrivers, and life lessons, but more than that, it was a testament to the ever-changing roles we play as parents.

Snowfall Beginnings

The year started gently, with fresh snow blanketing the streets—clean, crisp, and full of promise. Gavin’s move wasn’t a grand affair. Two suitcases and a handful of cherished belongings marked his arrival into independence. As we unpacked, the apartment’s emptiness starkly contrasted with the life he was about to fill it with.

A quick trip to the grocery store reminded me that even simple tasks carry weight. A slip on the ice sent me sprawling, much to Gavin’s amusement. “Testing the durability of the pavement” I joked as Nancy helped me up. The laughter eased the awkwardness and set the tone for the day: this journey would be messy, but it would also be ours.

The Road to Independence

The next few days blurred into a whirlwind of furniture shopping, assembling beds, and navigating Ottawa’s biting cold. Each task brought Gavin closer to shaping his space, from choosing a sturdy winter coat to picking out kitchen essentials.

Watching him debate bedding patterns or steel-toe safety shoes for culinary school, I saw the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. It was no longer about what we, his parents, thought he needed. It was about what he wanted. The small decisions – the texture of a pillow, the fit of a boot – were shaping a world entirely his own.

Tools of the Trade

Day three was all about tools – both literal and metaphorical. Armed with a new set of screwdrivers, we built his bed together. It wasn’t just furniture; it was a rite of passage. Gavin’s hands learned to assemble the pieces, and his confidence grew with every turn of the wrench.

But the tools weren’t only physical. That day, Gavin called his school to clarify his schedule – a small act symbolizing his growing independence. When I offered to join him for orientation, his response was gentle but firm: “You can drop me off, Dad…..the orientation is for students only”.

It reminded me of walking him to the door on his first day of kindergarten. The exact mix of pride and longing filled me then, and it returned now, sharper in the realization that he wouldn’t need me to walk him back this time, nor would I have to go there to pick him up and carry his bag for him nor would he be sitting on my shoulders.

A Guardian Angel in Ottawa

On our last day before school started, Gavin met Ademir, a fellow Aruban with a Ph.D. who had made Ottawa his home. Over lunch, Ademir offered advice and a listening ear – a reassuring reminder that Gavin wasn’t truly alone.

As we ran our final errands and watched him settle into his space, the inevitability of goodbye loomed large. When we left his apartment that evening, he didn’t come back with us. “This is my home now,” he said, his tone steady and sure.

Closing Thought

Parenthood is a constant evolution – a dance between holding on and letting go. As we helped Gavin take his first steps into a new chapter this week, I realized how far we’ve come as a family and individuals.

The weather in Ottawa added its own poetic layer to the experience. Beautiful and relentless snow painted the city white, while the early sunsets at 4:30 p.m. cast a golden-pink glow over the frozen landscape. Temperatures hovered between -10 and -20 degrees Celsius, a stark contrast to the balmy breezes and endless sunshine of Aruba that we’re so used to. Standing in this frigid, snow-dusted city, I couldn’t help but feel the sharp edges of change – how life shifts when you step outside your comfort zone. And yet, in the cold and the quiet, there was something undeniably beautiful: a reminder that growth often happens in the unfamiliar.

The snow continues to fall in Ottawa, quietly blanketing the beginnings of my son’s new life. And while I’ll return to my own home soon, a part of me will remain here, cheering him on as he navigates the challenges and triumphs ahead.

Here’s to new beginnings, both big and small. May 2025 be a year of growth, courage, and the warmth of home – for Gavin, for me, and all of us.

Until next week, take care and stay warm. Don’t forget to visit www.lincolngomez.com to catch up on all my columns and podcasts.