The View From The Empty Nest

The following is a personal account of my daughter, Lauren, leaving for college, and the much-more-visceral-than-expected response that it triggered in me. What makes this slightly different than the straightforward "child moving out" right-of-passage that most experience in their (grand)parenting life, is that we are currently living overseas. So, not only did Lauren leave the nest and head to college, but she just boarded a plane in Madrid, and moved back to the United States, 5000 miles away.

To put the entire episode in context, Lauren mentioned to me a while back about a “deep thoughts” social media collection that she read. One particular “thought” from that list resonated strongly with me as a parent, but also managed to stir the child buried deep in my psyche. The thought stated, “there was a point in everyone’s life where your parents set you down, and never picked you up again.” This struck me as incredibly sad, first from the more subconscious perspective of a child, but then also as a parent. It made me want simultaneously to go hold both of my children in my lap…no small feat given my son is now over 6’2'…and to cuddle up for a hug from my mother, God rest her soul.

While that moment exists in everyone’s childhood, and one is able to guess at roughly when it must have happened, there is not a definitive instant that can be pinpointed, and certainly not one that would have been recognized for what it was as it occurred. It is more of a melancholy nostalgia than a specific memory.

Tuesday morning, August 18, 2015, however, had been seen vaguely on the horizon for a couple of years, and had been rounding into sharper focus since around Christmas, when Lauren started asking about budgets, savings, 401k, retirement, etc…, and how she should be thinking about such things as she starts college. As a buffer, however, there were always other milestones that had to be passed prior to worrying about that particular occasion…Color Guard competitions, birthdays, Spring Break, graduation, not to mention the trivial matters of selling a house, moving overseas, starting a new job, finding a new house, etc.... Even after we arrived in Spain, it was still something that was "down the road." 7 weeks? That’s a long time…No reason to dwell upon that now.

I don’t know exactly what the break-over point was, but “7 weeks? That’s a long time…No reason to dwell upon that now” at some point became “3 weeks?!? But I’m not ready for her to go!”

It has been a lesson in perspective. As I said earlier, her mother and I, of course, have been able to see this approaching for quite a while, and from time to time it would get us down somewhat. Of course, Lauren felt bad because it was “her fault” that we were sad, and she felt guilty for being excited about something that was upsetting to us. I tried to explain that it was a new, more exciting chapter for her, with endless possibilities that she could not yet begin to imagine. And that not only was it 'ok' for her to be excited, but being excited was exactly how her mother and I wanted her to feel. At the same time, though, I wanted her to understand that her mother and I had feelings that were all over the map. We most certainly shared her excitement, and also felt proud, happy,... But we were also (selfishly) unhappy that the most significant chapter in our life with her was closing. Perspective – as she is focusing on the beginning of something, we are focusing on the end of something else.

Ultimately, her last week here became a protracted goodbye – the metaphoric equivalent to pulling an emotional band-aid off excruciatingly slowly. And while I may not remember the last time I picked her up and held her, I will definitely remember the last weekend together as a family, and the last evening together watching movies, where she laid her head in my lap and asked me to rub her head like when she was little. I will remember not wanting to go to bed Monday night, because I knew when I woke up it would be Tuesday, August 18. I will remember the train ride that morning, counting down the stops between our house and my office, with her head on my shoulder the entire trip. I will remember my stop arriving, kissing the top of her head and extracting myself from a hug I didn’t want to ever end, and standing on the platform, watching the train head to the airport, feeling like an idiot for displaying a level of emotion that should be reserved for much more tragic circumstances.

Having said all of that, we have no reservations as to whether this is the right plan – she is ready, and much more mature than I was at her age. It would not have been in her best interest to keep her here with us another year, taking courses online. And if I am being honest with myself, it wouldn’t have made her leaving any easier. It would have simply happened a year later.

Again with perspective – I have spent most of my adult life trying to help provide perspective to my children with the hope of expanding their world. Now, as her world is expanding exponentially, I have been afforded the unexpected gift of broadening my own perspective. My mother and sister waved a similar good-bye as I moved off to graduate school and settled elsewhere. And much more recently, my sister and father have watched me take their brother/son, nephew/grandson, and sister-in-law/daughter-in-law and move them halfway around the world.

(Whew...)

That is enough rambling for now. My apologies, dear reader, if you began this narrative without the expectation that it would take such an emotional detour.

I will leave you with this – If you have kids, go hug them, pick them up if you can. If you are fortunate enough to be able to still do so, spare a hug for your parents as well, even if it is simply the emotional hug of an unexpected phone call. If that is no longer possible, then cuddle up in the embrace of a cherished memory, and don’t let it set you down until you are ready.