It’s hard to watch them grow up

Normally it’s the parents watching you leave, but now it’s my turn.

Crystal Tucker and her family stand in the snow in their old backyard when they lived in Glenhaven, Wash. Jackie McCormack on left, Jordan Tucker (son) in her arms, Gabe Tucker on right, Crystal Tucker on far right // Photo by Saralee Sky

Written by Crystal Tucker

Yes, it’s true. On July 1, 2022, my mother left to pursue her dream of living in Hawaii.

My mother has always been my go-to person whenever I need something. She’s the person I call when my car breaks down. She’s the person I call when I’m financially unstable.

She’s the person I call when I simply need a hug.

Now that she has left, I am overwhelmed by the thought of being alone. I’m scared that I won’t be able to handle the obstacles that come my way.

My grandmother, Saralee Sky, messaged my brother and I before my mother moved.

“I thought a lot about Jackie and how much I would miss her,” my grandmother said. “You two may never live in the same town as your mother again. Usually, it’s the child who moves away. But in this case, it’s your mother.”

My mother used to live three blocks away from me. The route to her house was a mere seven-minute walk. Now she is 2,712 miles away, and I feel like a part of me has left with her.

We were inseparable the last few weeks before she left. We went out for lunch, got our nails done, and spent time doing other things that we knew we would enjoy doing together.

She gave me some of her furniture and other belongings that she couldn’t take with her, including her first motorcycle — a 2004 Honda Rebel 250.

If you or a loved one are moving away to somewhere that might restrict you from commuting, apps such as FaceTime or Zoom can help make the change easier, according to Next Avenue.

Since my mother left, we have been checking in on each other regularly, for example by FaceTiming every Friday. As hard as it is to remember that she isn’t living close to me anymore, seeing her cheery face over my phone screen always helps.

The day she left, I drove my 2012 red Chevrolet Cruze down to the house where I grew up. I wish we never had to sell that house. It was a beautiful light yellow, one story, three-bedroom home located in Sedro-Woolley, Washington.

Crystal Tucker sitting on a bench in front of the Glenhaven Lake in Sedro-Woolley, Wash. on July 15, 2022. Crystal is dressed in the clothes that her mother had passed down to her before she moved // Photo by Breeze Caron

I remember the little white shed in the backyard that faced our swing set and trampoline. The right side of the house was covered by trees that blocked our view of the other houses, which allowed us to feel more secluded. There was a giant, full-grown tree in the front yard that I would climb every day. It was my escape from the stress of school and constant arguments with my younger brother.

I grew up during a time before technology became popular. My friends at the time were my neighbors and our only form of contacting each other would be by hearing a small knock on the front door followed with, “Can Crystal come out and play?”

When my parents divorced, my mother stayed in the house with my brother and I. It was hard watching my mother take on three jobs to keep up with payments while also remaining dedicated to supporting her children.

I never knew that a simple old house could bring so many tears to my eyes. My mind was overcome with all of the memories I had of my mother and family.

Once I arrived at our old house, I could barely recognize the structure I used to call home. So many changes had been made since we moved out in 2015. The house changed to a whitish-gray color with a dash of red paint on the top of the wall. A second house is built onto the same property, making the place look crowded.

It didn’t feel like my home anymore.

Crystal Tucker stands in front of Glenhaven Lake in Sedro-Woolley, Wash. on July 15, 2022. Crystal is wearing the red sweater and heart-shaped necklace that her mother gave her before she left for Honolulu, Hawaii // Photo by Breeze Caron

It irks me when people say, “Why aren’t you happy that your mom is leaving? You get to visit her in Hawaii!” The truth is that I am still happy as long as she is, but at the same time it breaks my heart to think about how I can’t see her grocery shopping at Fred Meyer every Saturday, or that I can’t enjoy Taco Tuesdays with her at Jalapeños.

I’ve never been good at dealing with change, even the positive kind — such as starting college or getting your first apartment. I cannot explain why change is something that I am afraid of. Maybe it’s because I am a routine-driven person, or maybe it’s because I’m afraid that I am going to regret that change later on.

It’s hard to watch them grow up. But we all have to face it at some point. If I could have said or done something different before my mother left, I would have hugged her tight and never let go.