First we will feel and make room for grief, knowing that in love’s time we will go forward, greater than we were, better for having known another.
When you get down on one knee to pop the crucial question, you probably want to have an incredible jewel in hand to seal the deal. Choosing one without the assistance of your fiancée-to-be can be a considerable challenge if you’re not terribly knowledgeable in this area.
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.
Thanking me, she picked up her valuables and left – leaving me with the feeling that I was the one out of touch.
How could you tell a child that discrimination has sides, that the Nazi flag flown in Charlottesville, Virgina had sides. So wrong, so very wrong. You and I, me and you, we are also Hebrew – you should feel that in your soul’s fire, deep within where God lives in us all. I am begging you, hear him too.
Suddenly you see so clearly how the world is filled, every single square inch of it, with tiny blossoms.
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.
Our heart aches – not from regret, but from the memory of what was.