Slight pangs in empty nest goodbyes (for now)

While glancing out the window this morning, I felt the slight pang of heart-ache remaining.  It’s getting better though, each day hurts a bit less.

But seeing the trailer, knowing it still has items in it for me to go through and seeing the neighbors shed in progress in the background, all reminded me quickly, that life goes on.

I know I need to move on, too.  I should be happy, I’m thankful that my life goes on as well.   It is, as it should be.

I’m grateful for new beginnings, especially ones that I plan.  All the shoulda’s, coulda’s, woulda’s, need to’s, and musts of life, are tough sometimes, but they do help us get through the changes we’re encountering as we parent in this new stage of our lives.

But…damn it, my self-control issues surprise me when they rear their ugly heads. Nah, in honor of Mother’s Day, I chose to simply call it a mother’s prerogative.  I never knew if my mom felt this way, too – I never asked her, but I can now assume she did, too.

Stop the habit of wishful thinking and start the habit of thoughtful wishes. – Mary Martin

So, yes, we did it.  We successfully moved our youngest daughter, grand-kitty and her significant other (we love him a lot, too – he’s like a son to us), to a town even further away from us than her older sister moved to 3 years ago.

We’re officially an empty nest couple, in our empty nest town.

I kept it together during the preliminary packing stages.  And the last picture of them on the front porch.  They’re no longer renting from us.  They’ll have to deal with a landlord who isn’t also called, “Dad, can we hang this, or can you do this for me, or is the furnace working right…or why isn’t the drain draining…?”

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I held back the tears when we did a final walk-through of the empty apartment before jumping in the car to drive to the new town.  I didn’t cry when I drove the 3 + hours, with her and Bee sitting next to me in the front, with the jungle of plants in the back, all the while I drove and quietly reflected on how surreal it was.

I didn’t cry when Bee bit me in the face at a road stop break.  Man, that cat has a quick draw (blood).  It was stressful for her, too.

I didn’t cry in pain as we emptied 3 vehicles and a trailer full of stuff up 3 flights of stairs.  I didn’t cry the next morning when I discovered muscles I forgot I hadn’t used in years, or when I saw the new bruises I gained during the process.

I didn’t cry when Bee, our farm-born, pedigree-free grand-kitty, settled into her new home and didn’t want me to touch her.  She was content.  As it should be.

Aw…their adorable, brave, little ol’ Bee.  I’ll miss cat-sitting her, too.

I didn’t cry as we walked around the pond on Mother’s Day.  They were excited to show me how nice the area is.  They’re right, it is peaceful and…yes, very nice.  I could see why they’ll like it here.

The flowering crab trees on the way brought a warm feeling to me as we walked around the area in the dew-drenched morning.

I didn’t cry when I snapped a picture of them by the pond.  I know they’ll visit it often.

I didn’t cry when Sarah looked back at me to see if I was still coming.

 

I didn’t cry when we hugged goodbye (for now), or when we drove off and left them there, in their new home, in a new town, heading off into new adventures.  As it should be.

I didn’t cry when I glanced out the window as we drove home.

I thought to myself, “I can do this, too.”

But, then all of a sudden, I lost it when we sat down for dinner.  The tears flowed uncontrollably.

Me:  “Why do I do this, I hold it together for so long, and then it hits me like a ton of bricks?  Why do I have to do that, why can’t I cry in little bouts leading up to things?  I try to be so strong, and yet, I’m not until it becomes too much to bear.”

Mr.:  “We knew this would happen eventually.  We knew what the outcome would be when we decided to have kids.  They would move out.”

Me:  “Yes, I know.”

Mr.:  “We should be damn happy and proud that both of them are independent, strong, and living their own lives.”

Me:  “Yes, I know.”

Mr.:  “We should be proud of ourselves, too.  We met our goals for them that we set when we decided to be parents.  They’re going to be just fine, and you (we) will be, too.”

Me:  “Yes, I know, it’s still hard, give me a couple days and extra hugs, and I’ll be back to normal.”

And, the new normal is a work in progress!  Stay tuned…