I thought it would be easier this time.
But I was wrong.
This was a special moment for my son. The start of a new chapter in his life — a career.
But it felt more like a final chapter — for his mother and I. The nest is truly empty now.
Actually, the nest has been empty since he left for college and then went overseas to get the masters. Any trip home since then has been temporary.
Still ... watching him pack up and drive away was hard, watching the car disappear.
I just stood there in the driveway and watched ... until there was nothing left to see, breathing through a heavy ache.
Perhaps this goodbye was tougher because this was the big leave ... and he is the youngest… the last one.
I now find myself bumping into the silence around me.
When I go to bed, there is no light coming from under the den door. He is gone.
In the morning there is no clink of the spoon in the cereal bowl. He is gone.
Yes, we wanted him to go. Not away, but toward.
Our parting advice was … just be you. We believe in you.
So the nest is empty, except for the stuff left behind: baseball hats that no longer fit, doodles drawn by tiny hands, trinkets and trophies in boxes and fading echoes of laughter ... and tears.
And I guess that's the rub ... the pain with the ache.
Because I want to do it all again.
I'm Lonny Cain, and that's my perspective.