The last "First" day

Monday 8/10/15. This is the last first day of school my number one son will have. Senior year and the count down to his leaving home begin that day. I have panic attacks if I think about that too long. I still remember his first day of preschool and the preparations it took. I took him to the barber for a haircut - his "handlsome hair" he called it. Just a typical little boy haircut. His wide grin filled with perfect little boy teeth. I remember feeling anticipation the night before that first day too. Here we are 13 years later and it looks a lot different but there's still that tug in my chest. A mixed emotion cocktail minus the cute umbrella. He doesn't need me to buy him a backpack and lunchbox anymore. He doesn't need me to help him lay out his clothes making sure they all match. He doesn't need me to walk him to class or volunteer at his school. He doesn't need me to drop him off or pick him up. There are a great number of things he doesn't need me to do anymore. Which is exactly the way it's supposed to be. So why does it break my heart in half to think about it? The best I can figure is this...in all the years before this moment there were guidelines that I could study and follow for what he would need from me. From "What to expect when you're expecting" to "Have a new kid by Friday". I read every parenting magazine and book I could over the years. This is uncharted territory. I have no idea what besides my unconditional love and support I can offer. There's not a follow up book titled "What to expect when your firstborn moves out and joins the military". There's no word I know for how this feels except OUCH. I was pretty confident back when he was little that I was doing a good job. Writing this I wonder... Have I given him what he needs to survive in this world? Have I given him the tools to live on his own and be ok? To guard his heart and protect the light of that little four year old that I can still see in his eyes every time he smiles? Have I instilled in him all the lessons that I would spend countless hours talking to him about as I rocked him in my arms? Will he remember the lullabies and the love? Will he carry it with him in dark moments? Is the faith I tried to give him strong enough? I know that kids are supposed to grow up and begin their own lives and I know he's not gone yet but I also know that I will jealously guard each moment I have this year and burn it in my memory because it will never be exactly like this again. Like the other night when we went and saw the new Vacation together, just the two of us.  He'll come back to visit I'm sure. But it will never be exactly like this again, with his room across the hall and his shoes all over the floor. With his music pouring too loudly through the walls as he gets ready for his day. So here I am the day before the last first day of school and all he really needed me to do was make sure his gas tank was full and that he had a couple new outfits. He's a good kid.  He'll be a good man. And I'll always be his momma.