Empty Nest or Hole in My Heart?
It is that time of year when kids are graduating from high school and preparing to leave for college. It is a milestone, a major life transition that parents alternately look forward to and dread.
I am reminded of the time my youngest of four left home to attend Oklahoma Christian University. That was eighteen years ago, otherwise known as yesterday—or so it seems. It was then that we became empty nesters.
A Google search revealed that the term “empty nest” was first coined by a woman named Dorothy Canfield in her book, Mothers and Children, published in 1914. I think it could be more accurately called “hole in my heart” or “deafening silence in my home.”
These phrases would work just as well. Think about it. You are meeting new people, making small talk and the subject of kids comes up.
“Do you have kids at home?”
“No, we have a hole in our hearts.”
“Ah,” they nod knowingly. “Where are they going to school?”
I vividly remember the day we dropped our baby off at the university. We were thrilled that she chose Oklahoma Christian so she could be where her brother was. It made it a little easier for us to leave her there. She also had cousins at the same school. They joked that any boy who wanted to date her would have to go through three people. I could tell her dad enjoyed that.
It was a Saturday. As we lugged all her stuff up to her room, I thought, “Why are freshmen always on the second or third floor?” We began the first of several trips to Walmart. Between necessary shelving, room decorations, and food, we finally called a halt to the spending when we had exceeded our weekly grocery budget.
On Sunday, after church, we went to lunch with the cousins. After yet another trip to Walmart, we returned to her room one last time to cover a bulletin board with fabric. The moment we were dreading had arrived. All we had to do was staple the fabric to the board, and we would be through. I stapled while her dad held the fabric to the board. The stapler kept jamming. Over and over I stopped, took the staples out, removed the offensive staple, and started again. As I became more frustrated, he took over until he could not get the stapler to work either. Neither of us wanted to quit. Neither wanted to give up on the stapler, because once we finished the job, it would be time to go.
Finally, my daughter said, “Mom, Dad, it’s ok. I’ll finish it later. You need to get on the road so you will be home before bedtime.”
The next thing I knew, I was enveloped in a group hug and totally losing my composure. As the tears streamed down my face, I thought, “When did she get taller than me? I need more time. There’s so much more I want to teach her. There’s so much more to share.”
We said our goodbyes and rode off in silence with her dad at the wheel. I chose the comfort of the fetal position in the back seat.
It is hard to believe that we had four children living in our home for a total of twenty-seven years. This marked the fourth time we had sent a child off to college. This was the fourth time that the hole in my heart was exposed. Yet, I took comfort in the fact that our baby was safe and happy and would have many wonderful adventures ahead of her. She loved Jesus. She had a good head on her shoulders and a big heart. She loved people, and she loved life.
In my head, I knew she would be fine.
In my heart, I knew that, eventually, we would be fine, too.
But first, that hole in my heart would need to heal.
Parents, as you face this milestone event, remember that the very term “empty nest syndrome” indicates that it is a very big deal. It is worth grieving, and it must be grieved in order for you to move on to celebrating.
You will eventually celebrate. This milestone event marks the beginning of the next chapter of your lives, a chapter you get to design. So, grieve as you need to, and then start dreaming about what you will do with this new chapter of your life.
