I have officially joined the empty nester club. In most ways, leaving my youngest son at college was just as painful as I had envisioned it to be, but there were some distractions and blessings sprinkled throughout the day.
It was a nice 90 degrees for move-in day to his non-air-conditioned dorm. As I mentioned in an earlier column, this move-in day looked different for me, as I was in my wheelchair this time. Luckily, the amazing volunteer students at Purdue have this whole move in thing down to a science. They do ALL the heavy lifting and magically my son’s items appeared by his dorm room door in record time.
What was not so easy was finding a way into the dorm with my wheelchair. The staff was more than accommodating to help us solve the problem of how to get dear old Mom up to the third floor in her wheelchair. The entrance we needed to go in did not have a ramp, so we had to figure that out. Then, a staff member had to escort us because the elevator in that dorm only runs with a key. Honestly, I went into it expecting some bumps in the road, and it was not really all that bad.
Long story short, I got up to his room where the real fun began. It was HOT, and all I could think of is, how is my kid going to sleep in this? Then I remembered I, too, had survived without A/C, not to mention the plethora of fans we brought. The plus side was that it was too hot to even think about shedding a tear. Since his brother was already there to help, we were able to help him get settled quickly.
To my surprise, he did not immediately kick us to the curb and send us on our way. He ended up joining us for dinner. This is where the true blessing of the day came. After dinner, we ended up dropping both boys off at my older son’s campus house. We did not have to do the dreaded “leave him in his dorm room alone” as we said our goodbyes. God knew I needed this.
We stood on the sidewalk and first I hugged my oldest, as he told me “don’t worry mom, he will be okay.” Then it was time to let my “baby” boy go. As they say, it is time for him to spread his wings. I tried my best to keep my emotions in check, but some things you just cannot suppress, no matter how hard you try.
As we pulled away, we looked back to see our sons walking into the house together. If you must leave your kids, what more could you ask for than for them to be together?
The ride home was silent, as neither of us was ready to talk.
The part that I dreaded most was walking in the back door once we returned home. I knew the first thing I would see was his room. I knew it would be hard to see, with most of his things gone. All that remains are his shelf of trophies, loads of running bibs, and old running spikes that hang around the room. A few childhood trinkets scattered in the mix. A symbol of his hard work and years of dedication remain.
A flashback of bringing him home from the hospital through this same door after he was born flashed through my mind. A vivid memory of my parents and his big brother there to greet us with a “welcome home Jack!” sign, carefully drawn by his big brother. This time, our hands empty. It is hard to process the two extremes.
This past week has felt so different. It helps to reach out to those going through the same thing. We certainly are not alone. My husband said, “I didn’t think it would feel different because he wasn’t around as much as he got older, but somehow it feels completely different.” There is an emptiness that was not there a week ago. A silence that cannot be filled.
Heading into week two, we are finding our new way. Luckily, we enjoy each other’s company. We remember talking about this very time in our lives many years ago, wondering what it would be like when the kids moved out.
Like New Year’s when there is this urgency to reinvent yourself, you think, wait, who am I? Obviously, we are still parents, but there is a new space that begs to be filled. I think rather than trying to fill that space with busyness, I will pause and take a moment to catch my breath.
As a disabled mom, I have learned so many incredible life lessons. I do not want to miss what I must take from those days. It is a true testament that the hardest challenges often turn into life’s most beautiful moments.
We look forward to what is to come with our boys and watching from afar. Here if they need us, giving them space to find their way, while we find ours.
Until next time …
Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, freelance writer, wife, and mom of two boys. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.