7 Stories

Do birds have trouble letting go when faced with the empty nest, or is that a syndrome that applies only to humans? As a human, I dreaded the day that we’d take our son to college and come home to an empty house. Our daughter had left 3 years earlier, and that had been an adjustment, but a house without our kids? I got more anxious as the day approached.

At age 6 our son saw a demonstration of musical instruments at school and informed us he wanted to play the violin. Although I come from a musical family, no one had played violin, but we were happy to support it. We signed him up for the Suzuki violin program that starts very young kids on very tiny violins and has a parent learn and play at the same time. I was the designated parent and rented a full-sized violin. My son showed much more promise than I, and in addition to his playing, the sound of violin filled our home on CDs of famous players and music.

The years passed and I tried to be a chill mother, but that didn’t stop me from waiting at the end of the driveway to see him coming up the street from the school bus. My daughter would come out to say, “Get inside before he sees you! He’s in junior high. Give him some credit for walking four blocks by himself!”

When high school graduation approached and the empty nest loomed ahead, I got an uneasy feeling of pride mixed with dread. He was going to be just an hour-and-a-half drive up the road at a respected university and was excited about going off on his own. I was happy for him and could remember the exhilarating freedom I felt when I left home, but still… I was having trouble letting go.
Shortly before high school graduation I was driving home from a school event when The Lark Ascending, a moody violin piece by Vaughn Williams, came on the radio. It was a punch in the gut, a mournful sound combining loss and freedom, and I felt only the loss.

When the day came to take him to college, I put on a good face, made up his bed in the dorm, and walked around campus aware of his excitement at finally being there. We said goodbye and began the drive home where the empty house awaited us. When we walked inside, the empty nest seemed luxurious instead of sad, and we had it to ourselves for the first time. My husband and I looked at each other and both said, “Yippee!” If I’d been physically able, I would have jumped up and clicked my heels together.

So, what happened? Maybe it was my fear of the unknown, and once I’d seen him settled and excited to be at college, I was able to let go of my fear and angst. With some help from my husband I had managed my anxiety over the years so I didn't pass it on and had raised a child who was eager to start a life of his own. Whatever the reason, I surprised myself with how easily I’d let go as we did our dance around our beautifully empty dining room.

I hope this true story helps spur us on to create our own...See you there, Sybil