Knowing this feeling'll pass

This time two years ago, I was struggling to cope with the fact that the first of my kids had just moved out. Now, when I say struggling to cope, I don’t mean that I was a complete emotional wreck and unable to function on a day-to-day basis! But, I did have a terrible aching heart, I did keep bursting into tears and it did take me quite a while to get used to the fact that my eighteen year old wee girl no longer lived at home.  I remember feeling really guilty about feeling so bad, and thinking that it was totally ridiculous that I was so upset. I remember thinking that many of my friends and family members had had to deal with much more awful things in their lives and that I was being pathetic and should pull myself together! But I simply couldn’t help how I felt. So, I kept myself to myself for a wee while  – just for a few days – and indulged myself in big dollops of self-pity while mourning the loss of the all-under-the-same-roof stage of my wee family's life. It was important not to let Gemma know how upset I was so, when I spoke to her on the phone, I made sure I sounded happy and excited to hear about all her new friends in her new environment; I genuinely was happy and excited for her, but mixed in with that was a big dod of sadness that had no place in our chit-chats! However, it wasn’t too long before my mood lifted and we'd all adjusted to the change.

One of the positive things to come with Gemma’s departure was the realisation that it was time for me to do something more constructive with the time that I used to devote to the kids and all their bits and bobs. I suppose it was a fairly typical response to the clichéd ‘empty-nest’ syndrome but, whatever it was, it led to such things as studying with the Open University, devoting more time to writing, working as a volunteer with two fantastic organisations, doing a counselling skills course, joining a choir (which is so much more to me than just a choir), keeping up (just) with work work and meeting loads of lovely and interesting people – some of whom have become very special friends – along the way. I’m still not sure where I’m going with all these things, but I’m certainly enjoying the ride!

So, you’d think that this time around, now that it’s Ross’s turn to flee the coup, I’d be better equipped - both emotionally and practically - to deal with his departure. Bollocks. Yesterday I had a lump in my throat as Gemma drove out of the driveway to head back to Uni; I’m used to her going now, but sometimes the little lump still catches me unawares. A few hours later - after a big, painful hug, with no last words from me for fear of the flood-gates opening - Ross also drove off in his wee car, laden with the things that we didn’t move in to his flat last week when he got the keys. Alex and Gordon stood with me out on the drive to wave him off and I thought I was going to burst as the three men that I love most in the world laughed and joked with a last minute bit of banter. And then he was away. Not to another country, or another planet, just to Glasgow. But my boy had moved out, had moved away from home.

I’ve cried a lot since Ross left – but this time I don’t feel guilty, and I don’t mind if anyone were to think it was ridiculous. I know we have to deal with much, much worse things in our lives than dealing with the emotions that come along with our kids moving away from home, and I know – from valuable past experience – that the way I’m feeling now will soon pass. However, I think it’s OK to indulge yourself in a bit of grief for the loss of something that you’ve loved very much for the past eighteen years; your boy living under the same roof as you.

This time around I’m not battening down the hatches; I worked at the hospice this morning, did a load of work work this afternoon and had a brilliant night at choir (even though I did have to keep swallowing hard!). There’s absolutely no shame in feeling sad along with happy, excited and proud when your kids move out of the house. That’s another important thing that I’ve learned during the past couple of years.

Ross is settling in really well so far – which is absolutely the most important thing in all of this – and, in about ten minutes from now, he’ll be walking in to the student union as a legal drinker. So, I’d better finish this off and go get ready to phone my brilliant son. He might be away from home, but that doesn’t mean that his auld maw can’t be first to wish him a very loving, very excited and very Happy 18^th Birthday on the stroke of midnight...and I’ll obviously be making sure the tears are saved for bedtime!