My daughter's independence. The drive home where I cried alone.

My wife took center stage.
But on the drive home, I cried by myself.

To you, who always reads my posts.

Thank you for reading again today.

As I have written about before,
my eldest daughter, who was called a 'sibling child,' left home today.

The daughter who lived with us for 26 years
is no longer in this house.

Please let me write about that day.

In the morning, the three of us loaded the luggage.

In the morning, my wife, my eldest daughter, and I loaded the luggage together.

There was nothing special about it.

We sent our second daughter off as usual,
and then it began.

Carrying cardboard boxes, filling the gaps, and loading them into the car.

While we were rushing around,
our conversation was limited only to the logistics of the loading.

While packing the luggage,
I kept thinking somewhere in my heart,

'It's going to be lonely starting today.'

My wife was the main character in the send-off.

While we were carrying the luggage,
tears were already streaming down her face.

It was after we had loaded everything.

She suddenly burst into tears.

While crying, she hugged our eldest daughter,
and over and over again,
she kept saying thank you.

My eldest daughter was crying too.

I stood a little way off and watched them.

My eyes welled up.

But I felt that the star of this moment was my wife.

Because my wife has been the one who has watched over our child
from closer than I ever have.

Even while I was away for work or business trips,
my wife has always supported our home.

I want to thank my wife, too.

When it was just the two of us in the car,

“Did I really cry that much?”

As we got into the car,
my eldest daughter said with a small laugh.

I laughed a little, too.

Then, on the way to her new place,
my eldest daughter talked about her future work.

I listened while nodding along.

But in truth,
my mind was filled with something else entirely.

Just as I wrote in this article,
would I be able to properly express my gratitude at the end?

I was worried.

How should I express my gratitude?
How should I convey my support for her?

That was all I had been thinking about the whole time.

At her new place, I was finally able to say it.

When we had finished unpacking and cleaning up.

“Dad, thank you.”

My eldest daughter said.

“Thank you for everything up until now, too.
Do your best. You can come home anytime.”

I managed to say it.

I think I looked pathetic.

Even though I had practiced the words in my heart so many times,
when it came time to say them, my voice trembled a little.

But I said it.

That one word as we were leaving

And then, as we were leaving,
my eldest daughter said quietly.

"Take care of Mom for me."

I feel like I knew this word
somewhere deep down.

This child has always, always been that kind of child.

She was a child who thought of her family
before herself.

This child who has always held back is leaving home,
at that very last moment.

Instead of herself,
she was worried about her mother.

I have also experienced living alone,
but I didn't worry about my parents' home in the slightest.

Usually, I think your head would be full of
your life ahead instead,

but my eldest daughter was more worried about her mother than anyone else.

"Dad will take good care of Mom and my sister."

My eldest daughter said nothing.
I just feel like she nodded a little.

There are moments when words aren't needed, aren't there?

It took 26 years, but I feel like I was finally
able to help her put down her burden.

On the drive home, I cried alone

The drive home was alone.
No one was watching.

I cried, though not as much as my wife.

It wasn't that I was sad.

I felt lonely.
But I also felt like we had accomplished something.

And above all, I was grateful.

That she had grown up properly.
That she had grown into a kind person.

Without being able to put it into words,
before I knew it, I was near home.

I wiped my tears and took a deep breath.

"Alright, let's do this."

My eldest daughter is now an adult.

My eldest daughter is, more than just a daughter,
an independent adult.

The child who had to endure so much as a sibling of a child with special needs.

With her own strength, she has her own room,
and tomorrow she will wake up to her own morning.

That alone is more than enough.

From now on, as an adult,
I want her to live her life to the fullest.

That is my honest feeling right now.

To those who have experienced their child leaving the nest.

To those whose hearts still ache because of the sibling experience.

To those feeling lonely while raising a child with disabilities.

You don't have to be a perfect father.

Even if you can't cry, or can't find the right words.

If you can cry alone in the car on the way home.

That is enough.

I have decided to think of it that way.

To [Name].

Thank you for being born.

I'm sorry for making you endure so much.

Thank you for growing up so well.

Thank you for reading today as well.