How I Stopped Struggling & Embraced My Empty Nest

Looking back, I think getting COVID the day before my son’s high school graduation two years ago might have been a portent.

There I sat in my living room in front of my laptop, sobbing and sneezing as I watched him walk across the stage to receive his diploma — via Zoom.

Something clicked at that very moment. I realized that I was about to live alone again, and instead of feeling a sense of freedom, it started to feel like a dull ache I couldn’t shake.

For parents, the ache of the empty nest is real. After all, you’re quickly transitioning from the day-to-day knowing about your child’s daily life, to phone calls or texts that attempt to fill in the blanks but can’t stack up to the closeness you feel just living with someone you love so much.

And no matter how real this feels, there’s also a stigma to feeling sad when your child launches. In other words, you’re supposed to suppress your sobs while you help make the bed in your child’s dorm room and you’re supposed to project joy. After all, the daily “work” of parenting is done.

Not me. I barely held it together as I carried bag after bag of Target must-haves into my son’s dorm room. And, in the days after I flew home from campus, that feeling only intensified. I’d start sniffling when I walked by his elementary school yard. I’d get choked up running past the baseball fields he played in, and forget about stopping for coffee at our favorite café — that was way too triggering.

It was a sadness I couldn’t shake, but there was a silver lining: My friends in the same life stage were also trying to make sense of this sudden shift. Once we started talking, we couldn’t stop, and I realized that we all needed community; we needed a safe place to share our feelings.

Within a week, I came up with the idea of holding empty nester dinners, and within minutes of texting friends and friends of friends, the concept took hold.

The first few meetings were epic. My living room, once packed with my son and his many friends as my apartment had become the hang-out house, was crowded — filled with a dozen people all talking at once, all excitedly sharing a favorite dish, all eager to meet each other and exchange notes.

We talked about so many things during those early gatherings. We helped each other navigate our second acts: One of us was embarking on a career pivot, another talked about finally having time for yoga. We talked about loneliness and marriage and divorce and networked with each other, sharing job leads and recommendations of movies and theater, museum openings and favorite places to go running.

But the most fun moments arose when a hot topic would be brought to the table. Sitting in a circle, juggling a full plate and a wine glass too, we covered a lot of ground, debating everything from whether we still track our kids on ‘Find Friends,’ to wondering about Greek life at our kids’ campuses and, ultimately, how to be the most supportive parents — even from afar.

Over the months, our group expanded — and contracted — with newbies joining every now and then. That was fun, too, when my doorbell would ring and I wouldn’t even know the person on the other side. All that mattered was that we all shared a bond. We had all launched our kids, and that was something we could all be proud of.

It has been over a year of regular meals together, and last night, we decided to meet at a local Tex-Mex restaurant. There, as we sat at an oversized round table, we started our potluck the same way we usually do — using a fork as a microphone, we passed it around so everyone could share two quirky things about themselves.

Some of the answers were ones we’d heard before, which made us laugh, and others shared new things we never knew. As I looked around this group of smart, loving parents, I felt proud of creating this unique community.

Then, as I walked home, I passed that café my son and I would meet in almost every day after school. I hesitated for a second, took a deep breath and walked right in. Instead of feeling morose, I felt grateful that I was the one who got to savor so many cups of coffees with my son in that very space.

And I had another revelation: No matter how old your kids are, you’re never really done being a parent. And with the holidays on the horizon, there would be plenty more chances for us to sit in this very space and catch up.

Just like that, my nest didn’t seem so empty anymore.

These celeb parents have gotten very real about their kids growing up.