Confessions of a Gen Xer Empty Nester

Late one night before my son was leaving home for the first time, I noticed, while passing by, that he had fallen asleep on the couch. Spontaneously, I paused in the doorway and watched him for a moment. As I stood there, cognizant that he might wake up any minute and highlight my “cringy” behavior, I recall thinking, don’t leave.  As ecstatic as I was for him that he would be moving on and spending the first of two years studying in Israel, I knew that his leaving would mark the end of a very meaningful chapter in our relationship and our lives.

But I also knew his departure would signify the beginning of a bright new chapter for both of us: one of independence, personal growth and new-found freedom to carve out our own unique paths and identities.

Fast forward three years and I have adjusted to, even embraced, life as an empty nester. On the occasions when I lament my child’s physical absence, I think about the book Adventures in the Mainstream. In describing life with his son who has Down syndrome, author Greg Palmer poignantly notes, “I’ve heard parents bemoaning the fact that their children have grown up and gone off to live their own lives. They long for the days when Junior automatically took their hand to cross the street, found delight in an ice cream cone, and slept with stuffed animals and action figures. Ned still does all these things, and he is twenty. A child growing up and going away is sad; a child not able to grow up, and with no place to go is something far worse.”

Indeed, it is truly a blessing when our children are able to leave the cocoon to live distinct, yet connected lives. And so rather than mourn, I celebrate this milestone. For I am among the lucky ones whose children have launched. 

Give them roots and give them wings, they say. I have done both, and my son is soaring.

So to my friend, mother of four, who is on the verge of losing it from her adorable kiddos, I offer this advice: appreciate these days with your children while you can, because before you know it, they grow up. And they will leave you.

Until a pandemic strikes, and they move back home.

Indefinitely.