It’s Quiet Here. Too Quiet.
It happens at the end of every visit from my daughters, the silence. I go from daily wake-ups, making breakfasts, preparing lunches, driving one to work and back, and doing “Dad” stuff, either teaching life lessons or sharing memories, to silence. Full stop. Nothing to do. There is stuff I can and need to do, but it is still so quiet.
The first half of their lives, all living under the same roof, a beat was never skipped with bed and bath time, meals, homework, and play. And honestly, though my heart ached being separate from them following the divorce, I never really had any opportunity to “not realize” the silence. I was either immediately immersed into my custody case, or facing an imminent health issue related to my cancer survivorship, simply put, either too busy or distracted to realize the silence around me.
But following their visits to me, it was a different story. Living alone, I never realized the quiet. Maybe that is because I always had some sort of noise playing, usually music. When they arrived, I had things to do. It was just like the days when we lived with each other. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, playtime, bedtime. And then they would go back home, and I would forget to turn anything on, whether it was the radio or television. I had nothing to do. It was quiet.
This last Summer visit was their last “custodial” visit with me. With both in college, adults, they have their own lives to live. In a way, the geographical strain combined with the custody process, might actually have helped me to prepare for this day, the official “empty nest.
“Empty Nest Syndrome” is an actual situation recognized by the NIH as “a psychological condition that affects parents, caused to experience feelings of grief, loss, fear, inability, difficulty in adjusting to the new roles, and the change of a parental relationship, when the children leave the home.” Wow. When you put it that way, it makes it feel like a super heavy time to experience.
But I am not having any of those feelings. I am actually feeling joy, happiness, hope, recognizing that my daughters are now on their way to become who they were meant to be. My hope is that I have given them the tools to make the right decisions, the encouragement to dream big, recognize that sometimes things do not work out, all in the plan to celebrate a dream recognized.
I have given them the best examples that I can to make the right decisions in two of the main issues in relationships, a role model for how to be treated and how to treat their significant other, and money. But from here on, it is all on them. Yes, the parental relationship has changed. I have gone from teacher to advisor. But to them, I am still the same man they have always known. I am their Dad. Always have been. Always will be.
This meme came across my feed the other day, and could not be any more accurate. Along with the memories I have made with my daughters, I literally have thousands of photos to actually relive those memories any time that I want, or need to. Like now, with it being so quiet, still.
Paul's Heart 