with Natalie caine

April 26, 2006 | by Admin2 | No Comments

by Kate Fratti | submitted on April 26, 2006

If you’re in line at the supermarket this month or at the hair salon or at the dentist’s office or gym and see a perfectly cheerful, stable, middle-age woman suddenly pull a tissue from her pocket or purse and cry a little, look away.

She’ll feel really silly if you don’t.

Don’t ask if you can help. You can’t.

Chances are good she’s just sent a kid off to college or will have to soon, and while she’s been preparing herself forever for this damned empty nest everyone warned her about, the grief gets the better of her some days.

Give her a minute and she’ll get a grip.

It’s just that the kids she wished would hurry up and grow so she’d finally have some peace and quiet are doing just that.

She’s missing them like you wouldn’t believe.

I am her some days. Overwhelmed and embarrassed by this sense of loss. And my nest has been only partially abandoned.

My daughter, in her second year of college, will come home once in a while to do laundry and get a home-cooked meal and an infusion of cash. And my son, who’s finishing up high school and applying to college, can still be found some Saturdays sprawled on my couch watching cartoons or leaning on the open refrigerator door, which I wish he wouldn’t do because it’s going to snap off.

But mostly, he’s happily busy with school and with work and with friends. For now, family time is pretty much last on his list. If his dad and I don’t insist on Sunday night dinner, we can forget about it.

And while I know it’s supposed to be this way, it makes me incredibly sad sometimes.

I actually got a hint of how sad I’d be a long time ago when the kids were still small.

It happened when, for the first time, I let them walk without me through the back yard to a friend’s house a few doors down. They were excited to go it alone and promised to hold hands the whole way. Each kissed me goodbye and I watched from the sliding glass door of the family room as they trudged hand-in-hand through the back yards. I kept waiting for them to look back, but neither did.

I waited until I saw the friend’s mom let them in through her sliding glass door and wave, then found myself fighting back a good cry. The tears surprised me.

What the heck was that about? I’d been longing for 30 minutes to myself since they were born, I told my own mom later.

Of course, you cried. They didn’t need you. They’ll need you less and less all the time.

I think it was probably at that very moment that I decided I’d better go back to work. At first it was for just a few hours a week. Eventually, as they grew older, I worked away from home more and more.

I see now I wasn’t just building a career, that I also was preparing for the time when they would trudge out the front door – for good.

No way was I going to be left standing there by myself feeling lost and wishing they’d turn back around. That wouldn’t be good for me or fair to them. A kid oughta be able to walk away when it’s time, without feeling guilty about poor old mom.

So I got busy with things that weren’t all about them.

But I know now that there’s no protecting against the hurt of no longer being at the center of your kid’s life.

That’s because no matter how many hours I work, how many adult friendships I cultivate, how many vacations I plan alone with their dad, somehow they remain at the center of my life.

I just don’t let on to them too often. Wouldn’t be right.

Instead, these days, when I’m especially missing the kids, I spend more time with my own mom, the one who didn’t fuss (much) when I left her on the backburner a million years ago.

Lucky for me, at 70 she’s healthy and happy to get my call, especially when it’s to see if she wants to hang out.

They say what goes around, comes around. I’m thinking it’s true.

Kate Fratti, who reminds you to call your mom, can be reached at 215-949-4179 or kfratti@phillyBurbs.com.