The Empty Nest

It’s that time of year when many parents, all over the country, are packing up their young ones and moving them into dorms. It’s a very emotional experience and we never forget what it’s like.

Our children are a precious gift from Heaven. The joy they bring is indescribable. Our task is to love them, teach them and let them fly away to their own nests. But my oh my, how we miss them when they are gone.

All the things that we think are important suddenly have no meaning at all and we realize that most things do not really matter. I am especially talking about a clean house, no mountains of dirty laundry, food in the cabinets and refrigerator, things like that that seemed important.

I can still get teary eyed thinking about how painful it was for my husband when our first daughter went away to college. Her room was next to the kitchen. He could not walk down the hall without seeing it. He cleaned her room to a pristine condition. For days he could not walk by without shedding tears. After a few days of this, he threw clothes all around, put towels all over the floor and made a real mess. Then he said, he felt like she was still there. The messy room was a comfort for him.

There was a constant battle with my older daughter over the unsanitary conditions in her room. I feared that the Health Department would barge in any day, find unidentifiable bacteria growing there and condemn the whole place. My husband threatened to set off a small explosive in there and blow it away from the rest of the house. To this day, my daughter declares that she was grounded throughout her high school years because her room was such a mess.

My younger daughter’s imagination was so creative that there was constantly a stage show performance or TV series under production in our family room. I vividly remember her standing on the ottoman, using a jump rope for a microphone, and performing as a starring actress or singer. Of course, she was between us and the television. There was no chance we could miss any of the stage shows.

I remember the brigades of young people who would trounce in and drain every ounce of anything consumable in the place. The cupboards and the refrigerator had to be restocked daily. Sometimes even more often than that.

Cheerleaders were always cheering, dancers were always dancing, bouncers were always bouncing on the trampoline, and lots of boys were always hanging out to watch. There was never a quiet, peaceful moment.

The bickering, as sisters will do, seemed non-stop. Little sister wanted to do everything big sister did. Big sister would have no part of it. I can still hear it, “Mom, tell her she can’t follow us. And keep her out of my room.”

When the first one leaves, it is much more traumatic. There is a disbelief that this can’t really be happening. That much time cannot possibly have passed. How can we get by without the chaos surrounding having a house full of fun and fighting all at the same time?

I vividly remember loading the U Haul and taking my older daughter to campus. She was wearing her East Forsyth Tee shirt. A young man, a few years older, was walking across campus, saw it, and said, “I went to East Forsyth too.” My husband said, “Get over here, son, and help me unload this truck.” That young man has been a big part of our family ever since. We love him dearly.

But the day finally came when the house was quiet, organized, and clean. As I walked through their rooms, I could hear myself yelling, “You girls stop fighting? Clean your rooms and bring the laundry down. Why don’t you grow up?” The silence yelled back, “We did.”

They were gone and my husband and I were alone. Nothing will ever be the same. But you can trust me on this. I promise you there is another chapter to life and when the pain of them leaving is gone, it can be surprisingly good.