By Karen Ross
“What are you scared of?”
It’s a question that hits me hard as I prepare to navigate a monumental shift—my firstborn, the child I’ve nurtured and watched grow, is about to take a path I never fully anticipated. His future, once a familiar and comforting thought, now feels uncertain, filled with both excitement and a deep, gnawing fear.
Surrounding me, families celebrate college acceptances, proudly post baby pictures, and excitedly discuss future dorm rooms. For us, we’re in a strange limbo. We’re waiting, hanging on the precipice, unsure of what direction he’ll take. Will he commit to a life of service by attending a military academy, like West Point or the Naval Academy? Or will he choose a path through ROTC at a civilian school? What if he decides to stay closer to home, just a few hours away? The possibilities are endless, along with the list of his acceptances to everywhere except where he wants to wind up, but with each one comes a reality I’m unsure I’m ready to face.
The unknown is my deepest fear, by far. It’s not just the unknown that scares me, though. It’s the finality of every moment we share as a family before he steps out into the world. Every “last time” (for now, wink) we experience—every last meal, every last laugh, every last day of him being under our roof—feels like a reminder that everything is changing. It’s these fleeting moments I fear losing, not because he’s gone, but because he’ll never come back in the same way again.
The last time he sleeps in his childhood bed, the last spontaneous evening when we hang out without a care in the world, the last family dinner before his obligations pull him away—I fear the simple reality of not seeing him every day, the quietness that will seep into our home, the empty seat at the dinner table, and the echo of a space that once held his constant presence.
Then there’s his sister. My daughter, who has always had him just a room away. I can’t help but wonder how she’ll adjust to his absence, to the change in their bond, and how the dynamic between us all will shift. These changes are inevitable, and the fear of how we’ll adapt is overwhelming.
But amidst this fear, something else is happening. I’m learning to let go and experience a new kind of love.
I’m learning to trust. I trust that we’ve given him the foundation he needs to thrive—the values, the love, the strength to carve out a future of his own. I trust that, though he’ll be far from home, the lessons we’ve instilled in him will guide him no matter where he goes.
I’m learning to find peace in this transformation. Our relationship, while evolving, doesn’t need to disappear. The days of him “depending” on me are behind us, but what remains is a different kind of connection—one rooted in guidance, trust, and a love that won’t be measured by proximity.
I’m learning that love doesn’t fade with distance. My love for him will stretch across miles, across time zones, through whatever path he chooses. Fear may always linger, but I am slowly allowing pride and hope for his future to overshadow it.
In the meantime, I’m embracing a shift in our home and a shift in my role. I’ve found myself reacting in ways I never expected. I’ve become a little obsessed with checking the mailbox daily, waiting for any sign of an acceptance letter or update on his status. There’s an app on my phone now informing me the moment any piece of mail arrives, as if that might help me control this chaotic feeling of waiting.
I’ve also found myself “nesting” in a way I never anticipated—cooking elaborate meals and anxiously watching his face with every bite, hoping he’ll savor the food so much that he’ll think, “How could I possibly leave home?” (I know, it’s ridiculous, but it’s what fear does to you!)
Hands down, my greatest fear is the unknown, and I’m facing it head-on—what will the next chapter look like for him, for us? How will I manage not having a multitude of daily hugs, those quiet moments where he simply holds me and reminds me of the strength of our bond? Recently, we went on a Spring Break trip to Guanacaste, Costa Rica. It was there that I faced a new kind of letting go. He spent time with his friends, exploring, making decisions without us, even enjoying a cocktail or two. I was forced to let him go, to let him do his own thing. It was uncomfortable, and yet… it was rewarding. I saw him step into new experiences, make responsible choices, and truly LIVE his best life. And, surprisingly, it felt good to witness his contentment.
I’m terrified, yes. I’m scared of what’s to come—of how we’ll adjust, how our family will evolve, and how we’ll navigate the challenges of distance and change. But I am also learning that this is part of the journey. It’s what he needs, and it’s what I need, too—to evolve, to trust, and to embrace this new stage in our lives.
It’s a chapter I never imagined, but it’s one I’m learning to face, fear and all. Do it scared.
To read more from Karen Ross, visit https://www.thedailydrip.com/contributors/karen-ross
About the Author
Karen began her career with Palermo, Landsman & Ross in June 2005 and grew to become one of the firm’s partners in 2014. Karen possesses extensive tax compliance experience and leads the firm in all dispute resolution at the local, state, and Federal level. With over 19 years of experience, she enjoys working with entrepreneurs, businesses, and their families across a variety of industries.
Karen’s Enrolled Agent status is the highest designation issued by the IRS. As such, she is a federally authorized tax practitioner, empowered by the U.S. Department of the Treasury to represent taxpayers before the Internal Revenue Service.
Originally from Oxford, CT, she relocated with her family at the age of seven and spent most of her childhood in Islamorada, FL. After graduating from high school, she relocated to Fort Lauderdale to pursue her secondary education and currently resides with her family in Plantation.
Karen earned her bachelor’s degree from Florida Atlantic University in 2009. Then, in December 2017, she earned her M.TX. from FAU’s Executive Master’s in Taxation program. Her education and experience enable her to engage in and educate on unique and sophisticated tax planning, bringing tax compliance and savings strategies to life in a relatable, enjoyable, and personable way.
Karen avidly engages in multi-faceted networking to grow business for the firm and her clients through a range of professional networking events, non-profit organizations, and golf. She currently serves as vice-chair for Children’s Harbor, a not-for-profit agency dedicated to rebuilding the lives of teens and siblings in the foster system by working to repair families and break the cycles caused by trauma and abuse. With her passion for leadership, finance, and fundraising, Karen is a key element for the agency. She also actively engages in altruism and charitable giving for a variety of local, non-profits in Broward like The Crockett Foundation, The Iddeal Foundation, and a variety of others.
As a contributing writer and Thought Leader for The Daily Drip, she collaborates with female entrepreneurs on her journey to business ownership and inspires other women in business. The Daily Drip supports modern South Florida businesswomen in their journey to maximizing their potential through high-impact content that connects and inspires using a “for-us-by-us” approach.
Karen’s hobbies are her family. Even as a working mother of two, Karen serves as the Treasurer for the American Heritage PTO. She supports her daughter Shellie’s competition and high school dance teams, as well as her son Peyton’s high school golf and current pursuit of Eagle Scout Rank. She can often be found on the golf course enjoying eighteen holes with her family and cooking a traditional Italian Sunday supper.
“Don’t follow the crowd, let the crowd follow you.” – Margaret Thatcher
