My wife doesn’t want to talk about it, which is fine because I’m sorting through some emotions of my own.
Cheryl and I have been married for almost 21 years — and for the past 18, we’ve been Cruz’s mom and dad. I speak for the both of us when I say parenthood has been the greatest, most rewarding adventure of our lifetimes.
That adventure doesn’t end next month, but it’s not going to feel quite the same anymore.
Our son graduates from Hillsdale High School on May 25. Three months later to the day, he starts classes at Ohio University in Athens — and his mother and I will be empty-nesters.
I’m not sure we’re ready.
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Life transitions can be challenging at all ages, but they can also be rich with meaning and opportunities for growth.
Join us on May 1st at the Renaissance Theatre to continue a conversation around thriving through life’s transitions with author, therapist, coach and speaker Sarah Brokaw.
The Story of Us
Cheryl and I were married in May of 2004. For reasons not especially relevant to this narrative, we chose to adopt internationally.
For those unfamiliar with the adoption process, there are mountains of red tape to navigate. When you’re coordinating with two governments, it’s like scaling Everest without supplemental oxygen. The journey was suffocating and felt like it would never end.
And then it did.
Our son was born in Guatemala in April of 2007 and we flew to Guatemala City to finalize his adoption nine months later. We arrived on a Monday, met our infant son on a Wednesday and flew home on a Friday.
After a two-year marathon, the sprint to the finish line lasted all of five days.
Those early days were equal parts joy and wonder, fear and anxiety. There’s no adoption playbook, but like any parents, we figured it out as we went.
Time raced by.
There were first words and first steps. There were first family vacations and first days of school. There were first girlfriends, first dates and first school dances.
Then came this year.
It has been a year full of last firsts. His last first day of school. His last first baseball game of the season.
I’ve never been one for nostalgia. I’ve always found it more useful to look through the front windshield rather than the rearview mirror.
That said, I do miss watching Pixar movies and eating buckets of popcorn at the movie theater with my son.
I can still see the little boy with the impossibly adorable dimples in the young man about to set off on his own.
It’s enough to make a dad a little misty-eyed.
Empty Nest Syndrome
Empty Nest Syndrome is the phrase assigned to the melancholy parents feel when an adult child moves out of the home.
My wife and I are in the early stages. It’s complicated.
We’re thrilled for our son and the adventures awaiting him. He’s standing in front of a blank canvas and he’s got every color in the spectrum on his palette.
At the same time, it’s sad to realize we’ve been relegated to the sidelines — and we’re probably not getting back into the game.
As parents, we come to be defined by our children and their accomplishments. Then our children grow up and spread their wings — proof we’ve done our job well — and we have to redefine ourselves.
As is the case with every life transition, it’s not one-size-fits-all. We all experience things differently and the coping mechanisms that work for us may not work for others.
The good news is there’s no shortage of resources for empty-nesters. I won’t waste your time or mine by listing them. We all have at least a passing knowledge of search engines and how they work.
What is most reassuring, at least for us, is that we’re not alone. The feelings we’re working through are typical.
We were in our mid-30s when we became parents. We are becoming empty-nesters a little later in the game than most of our friends, so we can lean on them.
If I have any piece of advice to offer, it’s to take advantage of all the resources available to you.
On To The Next
I don’t know which life transition we were going through, but my wife told me something a long time ago that has stuck with me ever since — embrace each stage of life with open arms.
Sure, it’s sad our son is moving on. But it’s not the end of our adventure.
Cheryl and I will have more time to do the things we loved to do when we were younger. There are trails to hike and rivers to canoe down.
There is still plenty of time to explore and lots of blank spaces on our map. We’re looking forward to everything life still has to offer.
In the meantime, we intend to enjoy every last minute of this stage of our lives. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a graduation party to plan.