A couple years ago our youngest moved out. Even though we still had three adult children at home, I lived through my first empty nest syndrome. Here’s why. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought I still had a chance to be a better dad to my kids. My little kids. Next week I’ll walk with them to school more, instead of sleeping in. Pretty soon I’ll take my boy outside to play basketball together. I won’t raise my voice as much the next time I’m frustrated with them. Which is a nice way of saying I won’t yell so much. Know that these chances were already long gone. Our youngest was moving out at 16. But I’d never faced the fact that I couldn’t try again tomorrow to be a better dad. I know I can do my best now to parent young adults. But my kids are gone. I think there are uncountable moments along the way as a parent that you let go. And inside you are happy and you are sad. One day my girl didn’t want to be held as much as she wanted to crawl away. Good for her. A little good...
I wrote a pleasant first post. I deleted it. Here's the truth. I have spent five months wading through one of the most difficult periods of my life. And here's where this will be frustrating. I can't share the specifics - I can only share the pieces. It started with a cat. In May we rescued "Cinder" from a hole in our cinder block wall (get it?) We bottle fed him and housed him in a box on our counter. Several times a day his tiny gray face messily slurped from the smallest kitten bottles they make. At some point, the vet corrected our mistake and Cinder became Cinderella, she moved to larger enclosures, and now she confidently rules our home. She has been the brightest unexpected ray of sunshine throughout an unexpected darkness. Strangely, Cinderella’s presence set off a complex chain of accidents and events that broke some things. In me, in my family, in the circles of people I love. Injury, financial difficulty, mental health issues, hospitalization, bro...