Crushed by the weight of empty

... as I took down the Christmas tree the other day.

 

 

Taking down the tree is always a little sad, but this time was different. I actually cried real tears.

Damn you, menopause.

Well, fine, menopause probably had nothing to do with it. (Well, okay, maybe just a little.) And no, it didn't help to listen to woeful songs on Pandora, especially ones about getting older and kids growing up and leaving.

Remember when we said when we turned gray
When the children grow up and move away
We won't be sad, we'll be glad
For all the life we've had
And we'll remember when
                                                (Alan Jackson, Remember When)

Will Christmas ever be the same again? I wondered as I carefully lifted the angel from the top of the tree. I looked at her face. She was clueless. Sure, it has been different the past few years with kids coming home from college only weeks before, and Katie being married - but the movement over the past few years toward a more adult yuletide has never really bothered me (and the presence of grandbabies helps, too). I've handled it well, done okay. Rolled with the punches.

Until now.

Because when I really think about it, it's not about Christmas at all.

It's about life.

Well, I've been afraid of changin'
'Cause I built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I'm getting older too

Well, I'm getting older too

 

                             (Stevie Nicks, Landslide)

Another one is leaving, moving on and my house suddenly, quite suddenly, seems too big.

I realize she has been living away from home since last summer - but currently she only lives 20 or so minutes away. In August, my daughter Erin begins medical school in North Carolina. It is ridiculous to curse this distance. On a good traffic day she will be less than 5 hours away by car. So why the heavy heart, especially when she is so excited and friends and family -- especially her dad and me -- are all so very happy for her?

I remember how I felt the months and weeks leading up to Katie's wedding. I remember because that's how I'm feeling now. Proud as punch, so very grateful, excited and sad.

In a way, Erin has been preparing me for this since she was a curly-haired tot. She was born with a fierce streak of independence and ambition. She crawled and walked at an earlier age than my other kids. She climbed out of her crib before the age of two and ever since has been somewhat of a risk taker, or maybe she's more of a thrill seeker, but a smart one. As a toddler, she, more than the others, deprived me of cuddle-time always eager instead to explore the world around her, content to have me nearby, but not one for lingering hugs and kisses. Yet, even now you know when she loves you because she takes that very seriously and just doesn't offer it willy-nilly. She has little patience for stupidity, but will laugh heartily over the silliest, funniest things and of course, you can't help but laugh with her. Over the years she has accomplished so much, always giving 100 per cent to any endeavor - including building her relationship with God. Her faith has carried her far. She's worked exceptionally hard and is thrilled to begin this next phase, moving closer to her dream of becoming a physician. For Erin, it is more than a dream. It is her calling.

She is growing up and moving a little further away, needing her mama less. I cannot express how proud I am of her and how much I love her.

Or how much the letting go hurts.

The future Dr. Erin Fitzpatrick
at Campbell Univeristy