Empty Nest

A few years ago it occurred to me that I’d be 55 years old the year our youngest graduates from high school. That felt significant, somehow. We like celebrating fives and tens in our society, don’t we? 55! What a great age to…

to…

…to what? 

Begin again? I don’t like feeling like my previous life has ended. Move on? Worse. Reinvent myself? I mean, I kinda thought I was okay as I was? 

Be mildly depressed and wonder what my purpose is?

Sure. Let’s go with that.

I Googled “empty nest books”. I got about a hundred options. Overwhelming. Didn’t want to look at even one. 

I tried to write down my own thoughts and insights but I have surprisingly few thoughts and zero insights at this point, three weeks into this process.

Only three weeks? It feels like it’s been three months.

We’ve kept her bedroom door closed because the cats like to go in there and who knows what they’re up to. My childhood cat had kittens under the bed once, so yeah. I’ve learned. 

Has it helped to keep her door shut? Possibly. At least I don’t see a perpetually tidy room and empty chair every time I walk past her door. But it does feel a bit like a symbol of what’s happening: 

A door has shut. An ending has occurred. A nest has been emptied.

So what’s next? What new doors? What new beginnings? What fills the Lucy-shaped emptiness?

Well, for her, as they say, the possibilities are endless. Who knows where she’ll go from here? That remains to be seen but I’m excited to see it play out.

But for me? For us? The ones left in the hollowed-out nest? 

I’ve always loved the movie The Sound of Music. One memorable line is, “When the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window.” 

I know. Perhaps a bit cliche. But nevertheless true, I think. Doors close. And windows open. Things end. And new things begin. And when the one is over we don’t always necessarily know what the new one will look like. 

And so we wait. And we grieve what is gone. And we anticipate what is to come. We know this is good and right and best. But if one more person comments on the fact that I’m an empty nester now, I think I shall be forced to feign a broken shoelace to hide the fact that I’m either going to burst into tears or scream at the top of my lungs.

I don’t like this. But I want this for her. I don’t like this. But I will learn to adjust. I don’t like this.

I don’t like this.

But

...I’ll keep looking for that open window.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Psalm 34:18