Empty Nest Syndrome Pt. 4: He’s Leaving Home AGAIN… Bye Bye

Dillon In Motion

I know I said Pt. 3 was the final installment but apparently he’s leaving home again. With this continuing thing called “college,” Pt. 4 became inevitable.

There seems to be a pattern here: he grows up in a fly-by blink, goes off to achieve higher education; comes home for long summer breaks, but is then compelled to return to that other place he lives that is not here… not home. Though he tends to refer to it in such terms, I’d like to think that’s because no one’s there harping about laundry and keeping the bathroom clean.

It’s interesting how many times and ways you say good-bye to a child throughout their life. It seems to go on forever and maybe that’s the point: that the process of parenthood is evolutionary practice for letting go of so many other salient, important things… even life itself. I don’t know; that may have been too heavy! But whatever else you can say about it, parenting is fraught with the demand to find balance between loving and letting go, and it always seems to find newer and ever more complex ways to test you at that.

It starts early, the pulling away; about the time of toddlerhood, when that three-year-old suddenly puts their foot down about a whole host of things (literally and figuratively). This streak of independence leads to the longer days of kindergarten, full-time grade school with after school programs; then middle school with its natural drift from family to friends, high school with more of the same (including, now, the full-time passion of puberty), all leading up to what one friend’s child called “really big boy school,” college, where all of life twists into the practice version of their truly leaving home. Brutal. Freeing. Confusing. Exhilarating.

In looking through my series on Empty Nest Syndrome (links below), I realize we, here, really are well past that initial rite of passage. He’s into his fourth year of a five-year program and if we hadn’t figured out by now how to gracefully transition from those long summer breaks to the exodus back to school, we’d be in trouble, because the next phase is fast approaching. The Actual Adult phase. When they move out, get a job, get their own place, maybe relocate to another city, fall in love, start building a life… on their own… no strings attached… no “breaks” to assuage the pang of missing them at the dinner table or seeing their bedroom messy, lights on and… occupied.

Me n' Dill 1998-9

Yes, we’re good at this latest transition. We barely blink. He packs up his car for the umpteenth time and heads north with nary a look back and before he can even make the turn onto the freeway, I’m into my day, to my work, to my own life; focused, driven… and with a big, fat, breath-choking lump in my throat. Goddamnit. Why does this still hurt??

Because, at least for me, lucky me, this person, beyond being my son, is one of the best friends I could possibly have. That person who walks into a room and lights up the place. Who sits on the couch and shares idiotic videos he’s sure you’ll find hilarious (which you do). The guy who listens and converses like an interested adult when you take long drives or get caught in traffic. Who introduces you to a new hiking path, turns you onto songs he claims “you’re gonna love,” brings home Pinkberry unexpectedly, or checks in on nights he knows you’re alone and a little blue. That kid. You like having that kid around. And yet, he has to keep leaving…

I don’t cry anymore when he does. Sure, I tear up if I think about it for too long, but I’m busy enough and good enough at self-soothing to just get on with it. And, besides, we’ll be going up for Homecoming, he’ll be home for Thanksgiving, there’ll be that long Christmas break and, well, we still have a few semesters left. That bedroom will continue to be occupied for a bit longer, time we’ll cherish.

Because we know that, too, will end. And when that last grasp of childhood is finally exhausted, and he goes off as the grown man he is, responsible for his own life, I will feel that next layer of peeling away, of letting go; of saying good-bye. Seeing him off to his own house, with his own dinner table and his own bedroom. I can’t picture it yet, I don’t have to… yet… but it’s coming. Just like every other phase of his growing up has come and been embraced, however mixed the emotions. I will deal, as I always do. But, wow. Loving a child is a wild ride.

Drive safely, sweetheart. Stop if you get tired, check in when you can, don’t text and drive, and do good this semester. We love you and will see you soon. Bye, bye….(damnit, I can never find Kleenex when I need it… )

Me n' Dill 13

Younger Duo photo by Dean Fortunato
Older Duo photo by Ben Chandler
Skateboard photo by LDW

To read the entire series, click links below:

Empty Nest Pt 1: My Very Cool Roommate Is Moving Out…
• Empty Nest Pt 2: Empty ‘Next’ Syndrome…Coming Home
• Empty Nest Pt. 3: See You In November!
Empty Nest Pt. 4: He’s Leaving Home AGAIN… Bye Bye
* Empty Nest Pt. 5: It’s a Wrap… Well, Almost
LDW w glasses


Visit www.lorrainedevonwilke.com for details and links to LDW’s books, music, photography, and articles.

Advertisements

6 thoughts on “Empty Nest Syndrome Pt. 4: He’s Leaving Home AGAIN… Bye Bye

  1. Job well done, Mom!

    Oh Lorraine, this is the forum in which I best love reading you. They’re all good, but in my book the personal stuff beats the political every time (geez–can I say that on the internet?)

    This is beautiful, and so true. And so perfectly mirrored by “the” spiritual journey (whichever one it happens to be).

    Kay

    Like

    1. Thank you, Kay! I’m glad I have forums for the entire range of things to talk about in our modern world but here is where I get to speak without worrying about clicks and comments… just wax on about the moments of life that touch us, that matter. I so appreciate your appreciation, my friend!

      Like

  2. Shakila Pike

    I think it’s funny how different people are. My husband acted like he couldn’t wait to get that kid out of the car and into his dorm room and I felt like I was losing my best friend. Then my friend’s husband turned out to be the one having a hard time with it and she was pretty cool. Guess it’s not a gender thing, but it’s surely different for different people. I enjoyed all 4 of your installments!

    Like

    1. I think you’re right, Shakila. I thought it was a woman thing too then spent some time talking to a Dad who couldn’t keep the tears out of his eyes. But, frankly, I think even the dry-eyed ones are feelin’ it! 🙂 LDW

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s