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Leaving the Nest

I contemplated all weekend on what kind of photo I could use for today’s post. You see, our kids left for Florida yesterday morning and I needed a photo that would convey our sadness but I wasn’t about to post a crying photo because that’s too personal. And also, I don’t look pretty when I cry.

And then, Monday morning, Mother Nature provided me with just what I needed.

Puddles. To represent the many tears that Dale, Hannah and I have been shedding.

And heavy, gray clouds. To represent the sadness that is weighing on our hearts.

Brant, Heather and Ambrynn were actually planning on leaving Sunday morning after sleeping at our house Saturday night, but they were exhausted from all their packing and last minute errands so they decided to postpone their trip and leave on Monday morning instead. This actually gave us a wonderful day together on Sunday, complete with a Dale and the Duds concert to send them off in style. Except, of course, that Dale dedicated “On the Road Again” to the kids and the whole family started blubbering. It was all just so emotional and overwhelmingly sad and I was a big old mess. Ambrynn, sweet little thing that she is, lightened the mood right up, though as she yelled “Yay, Grampa” repeatedly when he finished singing.


So this little family has started a new chapter in their lives and I suppose we have, too, because we are now long distance parents. And it sucks. Despite the hurt we feel, we did what parents are supposed to do – we let them spread their wings and fly away.

This letting go is awfully hard but we sent them on their way with love and hugs, prayers and wishes for a safe journey, and a huge bag of junk food for the road trip. Along with whole bunch of sobbing after they drove away.

This Post Has 76 Comments

  1. It appears that your tears are catchy. I have some too! I actually do feel your pain! Hugs to you.
    Um. When are you going to Florida??

  2. *Been there* It isn’t easy, but the trick is to try to focus on how exciting this change will be for them…a fresh start in a new place!
    (It would be hard to say goodbye to that little cutie, Ambrynn, though…you need to get webcams for both ends.)

  3. It’s wierd how nature can reflect our feelings. But, just wondering… Will Brant be wearing flannel in the hot Florida sun too??? I’ve been thinking of you & Dale… See you on Wednesday.. Love, Debbie

  4. Carole, I so feel for you and yours…I was a basket case when my daughter at a month before her 21st birthday moved from our home in Tampa, FL to Phoenix, AZ…

    I cried buckets of tears as I am sure you have…but we are doing what we as moms are supposed to do…but, it does suck!

  5. Start getting those ‘care package’ (or as we call them in our family, ‘happy, fun boxes’) ready to go! We always include bendy straws, because you just can’t have a bad day with a bendy straw! I send boxes of 100.

  6. There are no words to comfort you so I shed an empathetic tear and wish them godspeed. At least you’ll have email and videos, imagine if this were even 20 years ago!

  7. Remind me to tell you about the cat books my mom wrote for my daughter while we lived away.

    Does Ambryn have a CD of her grandpa’s music?

  8. 🙁

    in addition to the frequent flyer miles, Jet Blue etc. may I suggest a cable phone line? My long distance bill was outrageous and we switched over to a phone number through our cable company. You can call all the time, anytime.

  9. OMG, Carole! You’re breaking my heart!

    I have always lived long distance from my family. As a result, my kids are under orders to never move out of state. We’ll see how long that lasts.

    Hugging you!

  10. Aw, what a hard time! Hopefully at some point they’ll be able to return to you. It’s especially hard when a little one is involved. Thank goodness for email, webcams, all the technology that connects just a little bit better. Hugs to you!

  11. I’m not a hugely emotional person, and I don’t think I’ve ever cried reading a blog post .. until now. I wish I were there with you to comfort you, but just know that even though I’m thousands of miles away, my thoughts are with you. Take care my friend.

  12. You know, my youngest is seventeen, and I often find myself weepy with the notion that “this is our last summer of childhood” or “the times we’ll do this (whatever “this” is) are numbered.” I never expected to feel this way ~ I’m sure the divorce plays into it ~ but anyway I guess I’m saying I think I feel some of your pain.

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