A dad sent this to me…….
I am a dad whose kids have all left home. I guess I could be the intellect guy who fixes problems and acts like I am ok, but I am not. My house is too quiet and I am lonely. There, I said it
My nest is empty, again. She is a senior in college 3000 miles away. Goodbyes are mixed with the excitement of a new year and a melancholy feeling of my little one being out of reach for hugs and seeing her chopping the cilantro, saut
by Joan Gelfand | submitted on September 8, 2006
Empty nest? Who me? I’m hip, I’m cool, and I’m busy! I never worried, never anticipated the moment until my first sad ‘moment’ last year when I took my daughter on her college tour. I kept the writer’s eye on this by starting my blog, “Emptying the Nest – (http://typepad.com/ciel) When I mentioned the dread my feelings to my women friends, all of them gave me the same line: “You won’t even know she’s gone! You? You’re so busy!” As a result, I figured that empty nest syndrome was for those ‘other’ moms – the ones that had never had a career, those moms that didn’t have a passion for anything other than their children.
So it was quite a shock when the grief came out of left field and hit me hard. It was kind of like taking a left turn with your signal on and the road clear, but out of nowhere, SMACK – your fender, or door, or worse – is shattered. As the date for Simone’s departure grew near, I cried. Not once, as I expected, but every day. I cried in bed at night, worrying – would she be warm enough? Lonely? Who will watch out for her? Will she have friends? A boyfriend? Then I cried when I woke up in the morning! Every room brought up things I was sad about – her bedroom for the safe aspect of our home. The kitchen for all the happy, peaceful and fun times we’d spent, and for our little, private routine; when Simone came home from soccer (starving of course!) she would sit at the counter in the kitchen reading a fashion magazine while I put dinner together. Intermittently, we would talk about the day, or, often, not talk. In her senior last year she was baking for a fundraising program “Bake for Lives” and once a week we’d bake cookies, brownies or cupcake s – with Simone meticulously attending to the frosting. Toward the last few weeks it seemed I was crying all the time – in the house, in the car, and especially during phone calls with my mother! As Sharon Olds writes in her poem, “High School Senior,” “I say ‘college’ but I feel as if I cannot tell/the difference between her leaving for/college/and our parting forever.”
Busy or not busy, I was grieving. And what I learned was that grief does strange things. Many years of therapy had helped me to come to terms with the loss of my father and the deep abandonment issues that were getting in the way of my relationships – I had trust issues, dependency issues, independence issues, and control issues. About a week before Simone was due to leave I had lunch with two good friends. Nancy had tragically lost her son in a car crash during his second year at Oberlin. The last time I’d seen her was at his memorial service. I was mentally prepared to listen, and be supportive. When the subject turned to our kids, and college (all three of us had kids leaving home) I started crying, almost uncontrollably. And it was Nancy, who said something very astute. With complete composure, she looked me right in the eye: “You know, one loss brings up the other. Your father left, but he didn’t come back. Simone’s just going to college – she’s coming back! ” I understood that she was implying that my grief wasn’t just about Simone, but I wasn’t ready to hear it – I was sure that I had “worked out” all that ‘stuff’ about my father years before.
The first night after I left Simone at school I had a dream about the day that my father died – forty years ago! The grief in the dream was deep and real. But in the very next scene I was pulling old, dusty curtains away from a tall window. In the morning, the way I interpreted the dream was this: leaving my daughter in that unfamiliar environment wit h all my anxieties (coupled with her own anxieties) had triggered the day that changed me irrevocably years ago.
There are days that change your life, and then there is trauma. And, it is also true that the heart does heal. In that next scene – where I pulled open the dusty old curtains, I felt that the message from my subconscious was: If I can just see what’s happening in this moment, a new day is dawning, the curtains are being drawn back, and the window to my life is opening and the sun is pouring in.
A mom called me and said it so clearly,
Honestly, I was surprised to meet my shy, awkward self at 56. There are days when I am out of my routine. I question, who am I? My friends have known me a long time so they understand when the inner doubter emerges, as does my husband.
by Anonymous | submitted on August 1, 2006
How did this happen so quickly that their beds are made, the refrigerator has no chocolate milk or Gatorade bottles, and the kitchen sink is empty? I have no lost socks, no basketball or soccer schedules on the refrigerator and no wet towels in the den.
I am empty of children. I guess I am in the empty nest syndrome because I feel down, tearful and don’t even say it, because it is not my hormones, so forget offering me milk, bringing flowers, and I’m so nervous… I miss my daughter and my son. One left last year and the other leaped out this month. Two college kids, and when I say that I feel old.
I am a young 50ish woman who still can dive and surface with rainbow colors.
I get up in this sweaty summer house and hear my footsteps landing on the dusty wooden floors. Face down, feet heavy, I remember, “there’s the deep scratch Ben imprinted with his black three-wheeler when over and over I said, “No riding in the house. You will scratch the floors.” Now I smile and am glad to see that marking.
Nancy has invisible markings of words on the walls, floors and ceilings I wish I had had an eraser when she loudly and constantly was on the blue phone with her life.
Now the house is so silent, I would welcome hearing myself say, “keep it down, close your door, I’m having my own conversation and all I hear is yours.”
Gee, do I only remember the discipline part of me. No, I am the good mother too, who baked the chocolate cupcakes for birthday parties, , manned the school fair ring toss booth, sat on their beds as they flew around the room buzzing about their friends and what to wear tonight.
I wonder who they are sitting with in the dorm. Are they getting dressed for a party or have nothing to do?
I guess I should think about me. What am I going to do tonight? My husband is at a business conference. There I go thinking about us. I can do something without the “us”.
But what? I get lazy about going out at night when he is gone. I could plan ahead and have dinner with a friend, but, but, but. Honestly, I am not lazy so that’s not it. I just feel flat. I don’t want to do anything, but watch TV in my XXXL faded green t- tank top that if my daughter saw, she would say,” You always wear your clothes too baggy, mom”
Signed:
“Mom missing her grown up kids.”
Next week this web will offer a survey, a poll on the home page. What do you want to know or talk about with other parents?
— How long the pain lasts (example: a month, on and off for a year, more than three years)?
— How many are single parents?
— How often do you talk to your kids? Daily, Emails, Cell phone, weekly?
— Why did they leave home? Work, College, Marriage, Serve our country?
— How many children do you have- daughters and sons?
— How do you comfort yourself – eat in bed, watch TV, cry, talk to yourself
— Where have you met a new friend – gym, coffee shop, bookstore?
These are just examples. You can suggest the funny part of life and the tearful, the joys and the challenges that you want to know about.
Just add your comments here or send an email. natalie@emptynestsupport.com
Thanks for taking your time to think about this.
Natalie
Sitting outside in the comfy star held night with three women from the east coast conference, the topic was confusion about how to connect with new people since there is so much summertime playful energy.
One woman said it so well.
In my group, at the conference, men and women who are empty nesters and planning for the empty nest have heard: HOW DARE YOU CALL IT GRIEVING___LOSS? No one died. You are so dramatic. You are overly sensitive. You don
Have you laughed at yourself in reflection of some of the things you did on the way to emptying the nest and while in it?
Last night, one woman said that it was not so funny, but after carrying the shipped boxes, shopping for more dorm supplies, meeting parents, college kids and navigating a new city as well as THE dreaded good bye, she knew she was sad, but handling the feelings that emerged, until BANG, She backed into a grey pole trying to leave the dorm for the airport. She said she felt so stupid.
Another parent talked about the bib she pound for pound layered by eating all night in bed. She had stains on her night shirt of peanut butter with chocolate, potato chips with ranch dressing and salted, buttered popcorn
In her blue suit, a woman said she was at the podium to speak in her corporate world . Her cell phone went off. She looked and it was her son. She took the call right there, completely forgetting where she was.
A dad told me he emailed his son every morning and not little hellos but long emails of questions starting with, ARE YOU…. until his son called him , left a LOUD message and said “dad ,maybe you need to see a psychiatrist for meds. ”
Do you have a funny thing you did on the way to goodbyes or after sitting in the silent house?
Branching out to you,
Natalie
I don
Natalie Caine, M.A. natalie@lifeintransition.org