Empty Nest
And just like that, I’m an empty nester. It’s a term that I’ve nonchalantly thrown around as this nebulous impending period approached. But it could not have been more finite and profound in the exact moment that my son filled up the car to head off to college. In an instant my life changed on the scale of the moment he came into this world. Now, as then, I’m not prepared.
When Judah was born, we had taken all of the classes. We hired a doula. We read the books. But as anyone who has ever been a parent will tell you, nothing could possibly prepare you for being a parent. There is no intellectual way to internalize the feeling of meeting your child. There is no manual for how your life shifts the moment that wailing alien is handed to you. It’s trial by fire and good luck keeping your sanity. It’s the deepest joy and the deepest pain, all at the same time.
Every year seemed to present new challenges for which we weren’t prepared. At every step Julie and I felt like we were parenting by the seat of our pants. And we continued to read every article, every book, consume every bit of advice from people who came before us. Yet, we always felt like we were chasing our tails. I cannot tell you if I was a good parent, though my people will all insist that I was. Judah had to endure divorce, bouncing between two households, having ADD in a world that still hasn’t adapted to learning differences, switching schools frequently, living in a pandemic + online schooling – all with our confusing and erratic mix of helicopter and hands-off parenting. We were inconsistent, confused, and overwhelmed.
Yet, I was able to make peace with all of this through the underlying unconditional love that I approached being a father. When we had arguments, I searched inward for that love, to become vulnerable with him and let go of my bullshit. I was absolute in my intention that my efforts were designed to give him a better life than mine, even if I often fucked up. As he grew and became more interested in hanging with his friends than Camp Dad, I tapped into this deep love to loosen my grip. Through love, I’ve traveled the world with my son. From a loving place, I’ve given him every bit of advice I could possibly formulate. I’m certain that deep inside him, much of it was retained.
I recently saw a video on how we don’t design or engineer our children. So much is predetermined by genetics and environment. Our parenting actually has very little impact on who our children become. And our role, rather than engineer, is to be a shepherd, guiding them along the path and observing. We can only choose the pasture. The rest will just unfold. With this mentality, it’s easier to sit back and enjoy the show. If I hadn’t already figured that out, the instant I became an empty nester, this was immediately clear.
From this shepherds view I sat in Judah’s room, after he left, and took stock of the man he’s become. For all of my uncertainty and haphazard parenting, my son is a remarkable human being. He’s a gentle soul that is sincerely loved by all. I’ve never known such qualities myself. He’s wildly insightful, empathic, and present, which is perhaps why he’s so well-liked. He’s innocent and trusting, which scares me as he enters the world. But someone pointed out how beautiful it is to be innocent in such a cynical world, leading me to value this rather than fear it. He’s intellectually curious and I sincerely believe, with his foundation having seen so much of this world, that he’s about to begin the greatest journey toward discovering his passions.
He’ll be fine. But what about me? Now that my nest is empty, my life is about to change as profoundly as his. Though my 54-year old eyes have seen a lot, I’m not one to sit back and let this newfound freedom go to waste. I’m going to cry a lot in the coming days as I pass by his room. That’s ok - I want to feel these feelings. I know that we’re destined for the best father-son period of our lives. And now it’s my turn to chase some dreams as he chases his – it’s time for the shepherd to seek new pastures.