The Constant Evolution of Letting Go: Motherhood, Womanhood, and the Uncertainty of Now

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about transition. Maybe it’s because I’m living it in real time—having now lost both of my parents, watching my two adult kids step further into their independence, and recognizing how life is constantly pulling us forward whether we’re ready or not.

But it’s not just me. We are all in transition right now.

The world feels uncertain. Things we thought were stable are shifting. Structures—both personal and societal—are being redefined. It’s uncomfortable, sometimes even painful. But what I keep coming back to is this: We have always been in a process of letting go.

It’s just that sometimes, we notice it more.

The Lifelong Process of Holding On and Releasing

I first had this realization when my daughter drove away for the first time. I stood there watching her car disappear down the road, and it hit me: Motherhood is a constant process of letting go.

The moment they’re born, the cord is cut.

They stop nursing.

They take their first step.

They learn to ride a bike, then they get on a school bus, then they start driving.

And at every stage, we prepare them to move forward, to stand on their own. We hold on, and then we release.

Losing my parents has brought this full circle in ways I never could have imagined. Because what I realize now is that as we become adults, we, too, are being prepared for the ultimate letting go.

As children, we don’t see it. But our parents, whether they acknowledge it or not, are always preparing us for the day they will no longer be here. And when that day comes, we are faced with the same lesson we’ve been living all along: Life is about holding on to what matters and letting go of what we can’t control.

The Funny Thing About Time

I remember a moment in my 30s that has stuck with me ever since. I was living in Tennessee, and I would sometimes fly home for the weekend. My father, who had been playing cards with his friends every Friday night since the 1950s, wasn’t willing to break his routine just because I was visiting.

I asked him to pick me up from the airport. He said, “You know I play cards on Friday night.”

I paused for a second and then said, “Dad, I only come home twice a year. If you live another 30 years, that means we’ll only see each other 60 more times.”

He didn’t like hearing that. “That’s not nice,” he said.

And yet, after that, he picked me up every time I came home.

Because the truth is, time is not infinite.

We move through life as if we have all the time in the world, but we don’t. And when you frame it like that—when you count the number of times you might still get to see someone you love—it shifts your perspective.

It makes you realize that every moment matters.

Embracing the Uncertainty of Now

Right now, we are all living through uncertainty. The future feels unclear, the ground beneath us is shifting, and the transitions we’re facing—whether personal or collective—can feel overwhelming. But this is what I know to be true:

We are always in transition.

We are always evolving.

And we are always learning, in one way or another, to let go.

Grief, growth, and evolution are intertwined. You can’t have one without the other. And while loss is painful, it is also a doorway to transformation.

So if you’re feeling unsettled, if you’re wondering when things will feel stable again, know this: You are not alone. You are in a process. And even though you might not see it now, you are becoming.

Hold on to what matters. Release what you can’t control. And trust that every transition, even the hardest ones, are shaping you into who you are meant to be.