When I joined the Royal Navy at 16, my world revolved around me. Excitement, nerves, and the overwhelming anticipation of a new life at HMS Ganges consumed my thoughts. I was entirely focused on how this monumental step would shape me, never once pausing to consider the profound impact my departure would have on my parents.
The Full Circle of Parenthood
Decades later, after two marriages, raising four children, and battling prostate cancer, I find myself on the other side of that youthful oblivion. Now, I listen to tales of my grandchildren's adventures, from my son who lives 133 miles away from me and in the calls I reminisce and remember how quickly the youth of my own stepchildren has flown by.
Currently, I'm living in the bomb-site of an empty nest, with the leftovers of things in the bedrooms once occupied by our fledglings. A feeling that brings a surprising sense of melancholic déjà vu.
My son's eldest, 24, has also left his nest, chose university, dropped out of university, and is now navigating jobs in the hospitality world in Bristol without the usual safety nets of a doctor, dentist, or home insurance, and needing a guarantor for rent. It sparks a familiar parental anxiety, almost as if the nest has a "cuckoo" laying eggs of new challenges for us to manage.
In my own home, the questions arise: Is it time to let go of this "safe" space that will eventually become a financial drain and a physical struggle to maintain? The roof, driveway, decking, shed, fences, and bedrooms all demand attention and money. Then what?
The Shifting Sands of Independence
My son's youngest won't be flying the coop for at least three more years. His older brother, recently 18, is opting for a drumming career instead of university, weighing the burden of student debt against his passion. This premature anxiety I feel is a stark contrast to my own youthful indifference. It makes me reflect on how oblivious I was to any similar feelings my mum and dad must have harboured back in 1976. Perhaps this slightly melancholic outlook is a symptom of modern life. My wife and I, theoretically "footloose and fancy-free" yet still working in our sixties, invested in the futures of the two girls I raised from the age of eight and now we are hoping, like my son is hoping , I guess, that they achieve their ultimate goals.
We're profoundly grateful for everything our own parents did for us. I'd bet that when their four children eventually left, their house felt strangely quiet, a place that once burst with life suddenly too vast and empty.
The Lingering Presence of Absence
I close their bedroom doors now to avoid the pang of nostalgia for two young girls playing with dolls and pushchairs, ("the babies"); they talking on the stairs pretending to be parents. When I do open those doors, I'm reminded of their absence by the "stuff" that still remains, even after three years of them flying away. Things once loved, beany babies and Justin Bieber memorabilia, all the clothes, handbags and shoes no longer wanted, which I now drive to the local "sally army" container.
We call them, they call us. We ask how they are, but the words "we miss you" remain unspoken. We cling to the hope that things are going well, exchanging quick WhatsApp messages, a fleeting "love you" followed by single texts or emojis is the most we can expect. I wonder if they truly feel the distance. We certainly do.
I can't help but ponder the future. What will happen when we're gone, and texts and calls are the norm between families and our "home" is just a place they once visited? It will then, be their turn then to truly cope in the big, wide world. Will their nest be able to cope without us?
POEM
This Poem has been used before but I think it is still valid for me today.
Empty Nest
Lonely, here, every day, where once the kids used to play
Lonely here, it's hard to do, to find such joy all day through,
Hardly moving, hardly thinking, what's next for me, I'm tired, I'm drinking
Lonely here, I want to say, I miss my young ones every day
Lonely days and lonely nights, no family rules, no family fights,
Lonely hours, lonely world, please bring back my lovely girls
Hardly hearing. hardly working, it's dark too soon, it's overbearing,
Lonely man, all forlorn, I wish those days were now reborn
Lonely me and lonely you, there's not much time to see it through
Lonely bed, lonely shame, to know tomorrow will be the same.
Hardly saying I love you, hardly meaning thoughts of you,
Lonely memories, surely now, I should be your one somehow
Lonely shouldn't be the deal, but loneliness is what I feel,
Lonely daily, it's lonely now, I need to find a way somehow.
Hardly facing challenge here, it's time to face my greatest fear,
Lonely past times, of days gone by, this empty nest, it makes me cry.
