The Empty Nest

The Empty Nest

It's looming. It's not going to resemble any preconceived idea I had about it. When I envisioned my empty nest, it was WAY off in the future; not 11 months away.  They are all three still babies. I don't understand how this happened, and now I have become one of THOSE women who has pictures of their kids from when they were small, everywhere. I'm serious. Bridget calls it my 'shrine'. She says "You need to do something about that shrine, Ma. It's embarrassing." She's right.

The other thing I didn't envision was facing it alone, but life happens and it's messy and it gives us what we need sometimes, rather than what we want. At least my alone-ish-ness in facing this was my decision. This year I have seen up close the tragedy of having that decision made for you, and it's a reminder to be grateful. It's a reminder to always see life through the lens where you have it 'less awful' than someone else. Compassion. Appreciation. I know mothers who would love to have my problem. I'm launching three healthy, happy, strong, smart, adventurous people into the world. What a ride it's been. What a gift. 

I was pouring my heart out to a friend a bit ago about my dread surrounding the impending empty nest. Here's what she had to say to me:

"Ah, the empty nest. Let's try an imagining. You wave off the last fledgling, rearrange the nest nice and comfortably, and wait with dignity as The Matriarch. You are not left behind, but rather you become the centre of their safety. They know. You may feel alone, but think what they are thinking. Mom is our centre and she waits, never changing in her love for us. She is our stable point in all the adventures and changes, good and bad, that are whirling about us. I can see it!"

How amazing are those words? I needed to blog them so I would have them forever but I also needed to blog them because they are beautiful and eloquent and important. Thank you for the gift of these words, Frances. You're an incredible friend and I'm so grateful to have you in my world.

(My blog. My shrine. No mocking me Bridget!)