My 11-year-old son and I rides bikes to and from his school every day. I accompany him on the 20-minute ride through Manhattan, drop him off and return at the end of day to pick him up. We always ride together; sometimes he leads; sometimes I do. And as we ride, we communicate the ways to minimize   the dangers: Don't go too fast, and watch out for doors suddenly swinging out from parked cars and jaywalking pedestrians, etc. Some friends worry about the risk of riding in traffic, but is there a better way to let my son know how to deal with traffic dangers? But recently he requested me to start hanging back a half block or so. This way he could enjoy the feeling of riding on his own, with the security of knowing that I was nearby in case he needed me. This is healthy, of course, as my son needs space to develop independence in preparation for his inevitable (,) departure from home. However, that means soon he will want to ride to school on his own, and I will no longer have this wonderful routine. "Let your children go if you want to keep them." I understand this and am trying to let my son go in age-appropriate phases, but I still suffer. It's one of the most troubling experiences of parenthood -- recognizing that your presence is becoming less welcome. My dilemma as a husband mirrors the concern I feel as a parent. My wife has just left on a six-month mission to cover the situation in Libya. In the days leading up to her departure, we spoke openly about the possibility, however unlikely, that she might be killed. But while I influence her decisions, I do not control them. Finally, it was her decision. I know that letting go is the wisest path in this case too. As we travel through life's phases, we must let go of so much. And I don't think it gets easier with practice. But maybe just accepting that eventually we will have to let go is the secret to living a full life. What does the writer's wife do?
She is a soldier. She is a politician. She is a media person. She is a businesswoman.