Your deep sense of loss, Christopher, is the natural price you pay for having such a damn good life with your sprouts, in the first place. Be glad for that blessing. I know your feelings all too well.
I'm going to hold off on the e-hug, though. Except among actual intimates, I'm not what you would call a hug person.
My daughter flew the coop in '83 and my son two years later.
To tell the truth, I've never been the same.
In my opinion, two wholly different things happen when beloved children leave the nest.
One; they change and you change. If the God's smile, you learn to understand and appreciate each other more than ever. It's a rare day that goes by without numerous e-mails or a long phone conversation with my son and daughter (Thank you, Al Gore, for inventing the internet - and - thank your Dad, who probably invented the telephone!).
The other part of the bargain is that the wonderful people who shared your home and heart for all those years, sort of don't exist anymore. The two-year-old, the ten-year-old and the 15-year old are gone forever. Nature's way and all that. But, as honest observers can tell you, Mother Nature's a Big League Bitch!
While my 30-something kids are the most important and joyful part of my universe, I still grieve for their younger selves who are gone forever. When I see young families together, I sometimes get the urge to go and remind Mom and Dad to make the most of every minute.
I'm building a beautiful new home and some days I ask myself, "What's the ****ing point of this?" Hopefully, Dylan, the first grandson, will come often. I have many amusing stories I can tell him about his father.
Four strong winds that blow lonely
Seven seas that run high
These are things that do not change
Come what may
But our good times are all gone
And I'm bound for movin' on
I'll look for you
If I'm ever back this way.....
Ian Tyson
Tough time for you, Christopher. No way around it. Good luck.
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