When my eldest daughter turned 18 I
carried around one of her baby photos for two years, every day gazing at it — where
had those years gone? You would think I would have adjusted to the grief of a
child leaving home and living their own life when daughter two reached
adulthood… and when daughter three graduated from adolescence.
I didn’t. In fact, it got worse.
With three children all leading their own lives it can seem as if that part of
my life never existed. The memories are all that remains. Even as I watch my
nearly-five-year-old grow, I see that one day he’ll be on his way too.
Here is a vulnerability that I
haven’t always allowed myself to be in touch with. The empty nester’s grief is
real. It’s not the kids’ fault. It is what it is. They need to lead their own
life, and I want (and need) them to lead their own life.
But it can be tough. Nothing could’ve
prepared me for this. If anything, I couldn’t wait for the day when they were
all grown up. Just like the paradox of being frustrated and rushing small
children to bed only to regret my lack of patience with them when they had
fallen asleep.
It’s such a bizarre feeling being
so thankful for an adult child’s independence yet feeling you’re no longer required.
There are still many times when I am needed, but it’s not like it used to be,
and the weird thing is I used to resent it at times being so needed, thankfully, mainly in the early years.
I know that God is teaching me
something in all this.
It’s that the important times are
the times I felt tempted to rush and overlook — that I actually didn’t always
appreciate the moments as I should have. It’s also that I did make the most of
many opportunities, but like all things, the end comes, and ultimately things
change. I have to accept it.
But it’s good I’m aware of my sadness,
so it needn’t morph into anger, as at times my sadness does.
Most of all, we
need to make the most of our time with children.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.