Last fall, we implanted our youngest two children, step-sisters, at their chosen universities, which makes our nest officially empty, most of the time. Over the years, I’ve written about having one, then two, then four in high school at the same time, then one, and then two in college. But for some reason, I’ve struggled with churning out the “goodbye post” for the last two as they headed off to school. To my dismay, the whole empty nest scenario has grown less funny with each passing evac, and therefore, a little more challenging to write about. So now, almost five-months post final nest emptying, I’m finally getting it done.
We had what amounts to a parenting milestone two-fer last fall. Our youngest two children, step-sisters, both graduated in June and moved away to begin their freshman year of college at their respective schools. While our nest-emptying began gradually in 2016, it emptied abruptly in September.
I sure wasn’t ready for that, just as I am sure most people aren’t ready for this kind of thing to happen. Nobody prepares for these things, they just sort of happen. One day life is normal and one day it isn’t.
Well, when gifts were finally being opened this particular Christmas, I came across a huge box under the tree for me. All I could think was maybe my parents bought me the stereo I had been dreaming about!
Expecting a newborn can be stressful even at the best of times, but when things stop going according to plan it is easy to let the negative thoughts consume you. Jeff Randhawa learned that situations like the one he went through can’t be bought but in the end made him stronger as a person and as a father.
It’s American Heart Month. When I was young, this didn’t mean too much to me because my parents were busy keeping me from overexerting myself or something the doctor told me not to do. Why? Because I was born with a congenital heart defect.
There was a time in my life when I wanted more than anything to get married and have kids. At least three, just like my parents had, but with a boy in there somewhere. After getting bullied most of my school years, I always wanted a brother who would defend me.
Holding the handmade ornaments from my daughter, with their crayon colorings, brilliantly arranged as a little girl of five to say Santa was arriving, made me nostalgic for those beautiful days of handcrafted gifts with special bows made by her small hands.
She told me all the things I needed to know and hear. A dying man needed to know he’d be remembered.
Reading through your diaries – back during those nasty divorce years – I remember dealing with my own issues as a young teenager; never realizing how you suffered as well… especially missing mum.