The Lesson My Husband Taught Me About Letting Go of Adult Children

Growing up in a large Catholic family, there was an ever-present value instilled in us from the time we were small: Family is everything. Not because my parents were manipulative, abusive, narcissistic, or anything that could twist that idea into something unhealthy. It was simply something they believed deeply. They demonstrated it through their actions and wove it into the everyday instructions of family life.

“Take your little sister with you and watch her.”
“Your brother looks up to you, so remember that.”
“Stay together.”
“You only have one mom, and she loves you immensely.”
“Your dad spends countless hours working to make sure you get a good education.”

We weren’t perfect, but we always found solace in that we had each other.

When my husband married me, I began to realize that his perspective of family was different. Maybe it came from being adopted, maybe from a different kind of upbringing, or maybe from a combination of both. Whatever the reason, he didn’t see family as the be-all and end-all of life. I’m not implying that his view was right or wrong — it was simply different.

To him, family was something you grew up in and eventually left behind. They became relatives you saw on holidays or special occasions. You went on to build your life, your siblings built theirs, and everyone found their own way in the world. While I had been raised on a foundation of family and faith, his seemed to be built more on individuality and independence. He and his siblings often looked outward for validation that they weren’t being overlooked in this big world. For me, that validation had always come from being part of a large, loving family where I felt accepted and where I belonged.

I’ve always loved genealogy. There’s something fascinating about seeing how families grow and change over time — how old traditions blend with new ones as two people fall in love and start a new branch on the family tree. For example, my grandfather had the most outgoing personality. He loved spoiling kids and telling jokes, and he had a way of filling a room with laughter. He also didn’t go to church. According to him, the church was full of people on Sunday who talked a big talk but didn’t always live it during the week. His wife, my grandmother, was the opposite. She was quiet and thoughtful, deeply creative, and a devout Catholic. So how did my dad turn out?
A devout Catholic… with a great sense of humor.

It’s funny — I never really thought about how marriage might change me. But over the last few years, I’ve noticed a quiet metamorphosis in the way I see things. We are a blended family, and that alone should have told me that the way I grew up would not be the same experience my children would have. I certainly didn’t expect my children to live their lives exactly the way I did, but I did assume they would carry many of the same values. But do adult children of divorce view family as the be-all and end-all of life? How could they? It’s a hard value to sell when their family was severed and divided into two separate households.

Divorce complicates loyalty. I think it’s only natural that one home eventually feels more comfortable than the other. That doesn’t mean the other home is bad or wrong — it simply means one place fits a child a little better. My husband has never struggled with that idea. For him, it made sense. For me, it became a hill to die on, because I had been raised believing that family is everything.

So when an adult child chooses to spend most of their time with one parent, it can feel like we must have done something wrong. But does it really have to mean that? Maybe the explanation is much simpler. Maybe that child enjoys being in one place where they don’t have to navigate the complicated emotions that can come with having two families.

Imagine the quiet thought a child might carry:
“I like going to Dad’s, but when I go to Mom’s house I sometimes feel like an outsider among the step-siblings and extended family.”

Sometimes it may simply feel easier — and more normal — to be in the place where those emotions aren’t constantly being stirred up. After a childhood spent rotating between homes and dividing their time, adult children may just want the simplicity of choosing one place to land.

That doesn’t mean someone has to be the bad guy. The Bible even offers a glimpse into this kind of choice. In the Book of Ruth, Ruth had two families she could return to after her husband died — her own people in Moab or her mother-in-law Naomi. Naomi even encouraged her to go back to her family. Instead, Ruth chose Naomi and said, “Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people.” Sometimes people simply land where they feel they belong, and that choice isn’t always a rejection of someone else.

And that was the peace my husband slowly helped me find — the realization that values can shift and evolve over time, especially when life takes a different path than the one you imagined.

If you find yourself in the situation of having an adult child who seems to grow closer to another branch of the family, I beg you not to play the blame game with yourself and not to chase after them. Neither is healthy, and neither is fair to you or to them.

Instead, try to do what my husband did so naturally — adapt. Allow them the freedom to be where they feel most comfortable. Yes, it hurts. Of course it does. But please know you are not alone. There are parents all across the world who have had to rewrite their definition of family in ways they never expected.

You are still family. Blood cannot simply be erased. What you are doing, though, is allowing peace — both in your life and in theirs.

Years ago, you could never have convinced me that my husband would have such a profound influence on my deeply rooted beliefs about family. But he did. He helped me see that sometimes love means loosening our grip on the picture we once held so tightly. And maybe, in that space, something new can grow. Maybe it’s time to spend time on yourself in ways you never could before. Maybe it’s serving others. Or maybe, like me, it’s rediscovering and investing in the marriage that quietly carried you through the years of raising children. It might also mean being fully present for the children who do show up and choose to remain close.

Family may not always look the way we imagined it would. But it can still be meaningful, still be loving, and still be enough.

From my blended heart to yours 💛
Kari

p.s. — Feel free to comment or message me any time