A Truly Empty Nest

I'm going to say that I have been hoping that Alan would become more independent. We want him to have his own life, his own friends, be in charge of his own activities. He is beginning to do that, and I am finding that I am lonely.

It seems that suddenly - and I know this has been gradual - Alan has decided that he does not want to come home. If he does, it is just for a few hours, then he wants to go back to his apartment. This is of course because he has settled into a routine that he likes.

We have always been such hands on parents. We have supervised Alan's every move, made sure he had everything he needed, hovered behind the scenes barely breathing as he took tentative steps away from us and toward independence. And now that he is like most 30 somethings, and does not need to see his parents every weekend, I am left wondering what to do with myself. I miss him. I want to see him and have him at home. But now, for him, home is his apartment.

We love our son. He knows we love him. His expression of love for us is this: he feels safe enough to push us away.

So I am standing on the outside, for the first time, looking in at my grown son, and feeling just a little nostalgic for that little boy that silently wandered our house, that child who "did not know he was lost." Make no mistake, I am happy to see this day. It's just that I am seeing it with a lump in my throat.


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