Wow. That day came. The day my entire life changed. That one, ominous “someday” dot out there in the universe finally caught me. And it knocked me on my ass.

She left for school. My baby, my sweet, precious daughter, left us yesterday for college. We are now, officially, Empty Nesters.

Her older sister left two years ago. That was sad too. It was a first, and hard. A tad different though. First, my older girl moved only an hour away and I could drive to get to her any time (and visa versa), plus, my “baby” was still at home. We still had our routine. My husband and I still had school and volleyball, curfew and check ins. Balanced eating, dog chores, messy bathrooms. It was a only a teaser for what was to come.

This one, this time, is so much different. This one, is brutal. There is now, no one except the two of us. The house we have raised our kids in, ushered them through every step of their lives in, cried, laughed, yelled, and celebrated in, is silent. Their rooms sit, untouched. No more hair or toothpaste in the sink, no more yelling from upstairs to downstairs that they can’t find their homework, no more blasting radios, or piles of clothes in the laundry room. No more moldy dishes stuck under beds and ant trails out the door. Any shoes left out, or glasses in the sink – are ours. No more checking their doors in the middle of the night to make sure they got home safe, no more yelling at them when they missed curfew and worried us. No more coffee over a quick breakfast as they race off to work or school, and no more late night bed sessions working through life’s largest issues; boys and friends.

Empty, (emphasize EMPTY) Nesters, sucks.

My older daughter leaving did one unexpected thing. It allowed me two years to really develop a different, unique bond with my younger daughter. We all, have always been close, but with the older one in school, (amazing husband aside for commentary) it was just she and I. Bachelor (as in the TV show) nights, pedicures, hot yoga sessions, mountain bike rides, hikes. Cooking weird recipes in the kitchen, random retail therapy and occasional weekend get-aways. I was always her mom, but I think this was the time she also became a cherished friend (and I am pretty sure, visa versa).

So on top of an empty house, I miss my friend.

It’s funny how much for granted I take the small things. Walking past her cracked bedroom door early in the morning and glimpsing at her adult sized body curled into a complicated pretzel a top of her bed (for some reason, the girl never got the hang of sleeping under the sheets). Absent-mindlessly rubbing her back or hair when we watched TV. Her socks, always mismatched, all over the place – the dog eating half of them and us finding them in the yard as surprises later.  Honey, from the tea she loves to drink, sticky-ing up the counters.  I work from home, and my office overlooks the front window. Each day, I’d hear her car (bump bump bump) radio before I saw her turn the corner, but that was my signal she was home. It always made me happy. I’d yell something silly about turning down her music out the window, before she came in. Small rituals. Trivial, but now having them deleted from my life, takes my breath away.

I felt that hourglass slipping away as we approached this date. The closer it came, the faster my time, and my anxieties flew about her leaving. So we crammed it all in. I spent as much time with her (I am so grateful she let me and wanted me to) as I could. Aside from the every day couch TV marathons and evening movies, we took a Missions Trip and traveled to Tokyo and Thailand. I took her on a work trip to NY with me Summer, and pretty much never left her side since she got out of school in June.

But that time ran out. That hourglass dropped it’s last grain. We are now alone.

This is empty. This is sad. This is hollow.

There are so many layers of pain we are working through. Layer One was for my daughter, I was worried about her being scared, sad and anxious. She expressed a lot of fear and anxiety – about going away and missing us, missing home. She has a very small group of friends at home, and was worried about being ten hours away, sleeping in a room with a new stranger, knowing no one. She was vocal and honest about her worries and as her mother, I took them on tenfold.

Then the other aspect was flat out worry for HER.  Worry about her safety – worry about her health. Is she eating right? Worry about her friends being nice/mean and including her or not. Is she sleeping enough? Is she staying away from strangers and never accepting drinks from strangers (roofies and date rape is a huge thing in college!). Worry…a mama bear worries and watches over her kids while they are under her care, but that worry intensifies in a whole new way, when those cubs have left the den.

Layer Two was for us. The emptiness. Leaving her at college and waving goodbye, Jesus Christ, I haven’t felt pain like that, in forever. But that was nothing like coming home, to this house, to this empty house, and knowing she is gone. The physical feeling squeezing my heart and chest last night when we got home almost paralyzed me. They are both gone. And we are alone.

That first walk in to our house when we got home killed my husband and I both. I was flooded with years of memories. Them, her, being here, there and everywhere. The front entrance, where for 17 years she has walked in and out of life through. I had this speed montage of her life hit me, showcasing her through all her various stages of life as she walked in and out –  of that door. Confident, sad, scared, joyful, defeated, ambitious, tenacious, eager and timid. That door ushered her in an out of all her years, all of her growth. Every class, every friend, every event, sleepover, dance, work…date. That door was the gateway to the involvement to becoming the amazing young woman she is now.

This sounds so fatalistic, but every corner of the house is memory-filled. The couch –  probably the most logged family time in the house was there.  Hours were spent laughing, gaming, talking, crying. Christmas, dancing explosions, candy-counting at Halloween and every day interactions in the living room, hot breakfasts and morning coffees at the kitchen counter early morning before school. Each nook and corner, a hiding place for our annual Easter egg hunts. Her room & her bathroom – the rooms that housed the mirrors where she watched herself where grow from a spunky, wild carefree girl into a not so confident pre-teen, then slowly cocoon into this graceful, elegant and beautiful young woman. All there, all now, quiet.

Layer Three is the reality of this chapter. This sudden realization that I am now in this stage of life. I/we am/are officially older. I am officially one of those older ones whose kids are in college. The one at the office, who, while everyone’s little kids are still playing around at elementary school, is now paying two college tuition’s and making sure they are working on their retirement investments.

I’m only 45 (hubby is admittedly a little older at 53), but still, we feel pretty damn young. Yet I am now, officially aged. I am officially now, in that category of O.L.D. It doesn’t really trouble me from an “I am aging” perspective, but it does trouble me from a “this is now the chapter I live in” slant. I don’t know if that makes sense. I tend to see stages of life from my work perspective. Once, I was the engaged girl at the office. I moved on to being the newly pregnant girl, then two years later, a newly pregnant girl again. Then, for years, even as my career grew, I was still the girl with little ones. No matter 2, 4, 6, 8….they were still little. Soon, I upped my notch, and became the one at work with teenagers. I was now enlightening my co-workers who had their younger children, with parental advice. And for a while, that was my lot. The one with teenagers. Then I age to one going to college, and now the final step, Empty Nester. It is an unspoken advance in to that “old” category, that whether people say it or not, officially advances me to an unwanted, very mature, category.

Sigh. Double Sigh. I am having a serious pity party.

There are some “good news” things here. One, even though she was sobbing as we left, she began texting me she was OK. She called her best friend. She went to a church service. The then went to puppies & yoga (yes you literally do yoga with puppies all over), then she decorated her room more with her roommate, had a dorm hall meeting and went to pizza with a large group of friends! Layer one worry, diluted. Not gone, but diluted.

The other good news is, and I mentioned this earlier, but my husband is extraordinary. Truly. He is magnificent, and we have a very special, close love. There are no words to describe how much I love and cherish him; we are one, we are truly one – and our strength in our relationship will not only get us through this, but is a huge base for our new chapter. We know this new, good chapter is coming, the one of He and I. And I know that it is going to be magnificent.

We always loved our kids, but our marriage was always first. We can very easily get back to our new routine, because our routine always was our relationship and care of it, first. When we are strong and connected as a couple, we are stronger and better parents – and that will shape shift quickly back to a new way of being for us. BK (before kids), we were pretty adventurous. We on whims, took off for weekend camping trips and surf escapes. Fun travels and random adventures. We will do that again. We will be OK. It’s just going to take some time.

And where I truly am going to have to go deep to find peace, is to realize that we did good, and settle in to that. Our role, our lot in life, is to raise our kids, well. To teach them to be good, contributing human beings. People that add to this world and make it a better place. People that are good to themselves, and to others. Good people, strong people – and we did that.

My daughter (both my daughters are, but for the sake of this ramble I’ll focus on the younger one), is a treasure. I don’t know another kid like her. All parents have amazing kids, all kids are amazing I know.  But this one, she is truly unique. She probably has 20 journals, all with goals and dreams and plans for creating her most amazing life ever. She “tattoos” in sharpie on her hands each day, symbols, small reminders, of things to help her achieve her goals. a leaf for eating healthy, a smile to remind her to say hello to people, a flower to remind her to stand up straight. And her goals were admirable; being healthy, giving back and serving others, spending time dreaming and praying and meditating, learning to cook, and speak fluent French. Writing her books (she is a brilliant creative writer and has already written 5-6 novels), ideas for new books, ideas for movies. Studying and getting good grades, doing yoga and exercising each day. Being a good friend, helping others…these were her goals. She made lists each day of “things to do” to better herself, and become the person she wanted to become. She always felt awkward and struggled to talk to people and be social, so she challenged herself to stand up straight, look people in the eye, reach out and say hi to new people. She took a job as a barista and waitress in a coffee shop (over a retail or less social job), because it taught her how to communicate and interact with people more. She even, before she went to college, looked up “how to transition to college” and one of the tips was to go spend, and enjoy, alone time. So she took up going to to beach by herself, taking herself to lunch, on bike rides and shopping. Just so she could make sure she was comfortable in her own skin.

And she loved it!

And it worked!

And this practice at evolving her life, that she implanted so deeply while at home is sprouting. She is blooming, already, right before our eyes.

She is on day five at school, mom and dad were there for four of them. And she already has gone to a game night with a group of strangers, a soccer game, pizza night, a concert and signed herself up for over 5 clubs (she may not join them all but she signed up!) she also went to the aforementioned puppies and yoga, stopped by her ju-jitsu place we transferred her too (the other bad ass hobby she took up a year ago to gain more confidence) AND signed up to be a volunteer at a local pet shelter.

She sought out the life she wanted, defined the person she wants to become and laid out a plan to get there. And each day (look at the past five alone!) she is taking trans-formative steps to get there

To say I am proud is an understatement. I have unwavering faith, as does her dad (and as does she) that she will be a superstar.

So I need to stay here, in this positive space. In this positive territory of “she will make it and she is happy therefore I am happy” space.

But right now, I am sad. Right now, she is gone. Right now, I am an Empty Nester. I realize my own new chapter has yet to be written. Yet I am not inspired yet to tackle that yet. I am exhausted. I am hollow. And honestly, I think I need to dwell here, and lick my wounds a little – and maybe even have a little pity party. It’s raw place to be, yet I know God talks to us when we are in this space, and I do think this time is meant for me too. It’s a shift, an acknowledgement I too, need to keep growing. I need some time with God, to hear Him. Hear His direction and input on this new path of mine (ours). I also need some time to thank Him. He gave me these children. He honored me to be their mother. He trusted me to guide them and grow them. I do think, looking at this beautiful soul my little one has become – He will agree, we did well.