New Series: Early Empty Nester

Summer of 1998, I got pregnant.  Spring 1999, I gave birth to a son – 2 weeks early from the expected due date.  Fall 2013, I watched him walked in to MLK High School for the first time.  Spring 2016, I dropped him off to board the bus for the New Hope Black College Tour.  For the first time in my life I dealt with the idea that this is about to be my life.  In this series, I will expound on my feelings, changes and experiences I go through as we draw nearer to this moment.  I’m about to be an Empty Nester, for real!

I knew this day would come.  Hell, in those parenting conversations with other parents we joke about the day when our children leave for good and we’re “Free” again.  The part that never comes up is how will we deal with that moment emotionally when it comes.  Some of my friends have the joy of having multiple children so the time is prolonged until the youngest to eligible to leave.  In my case, this is it!  This moment comes a lot sooner for me than many of my friends.

I got my first experience to life without him during spring break this year.  We decided he would go on the black college tour to experience HBCUs.  I really didn’t want him to go to one in the beginning then I changed my mind.  It may be in his best interest to be around “his people.”  Here’s a partial look at the itinerary:

I had created a full list of things I would do while he was gone.  This included going back to dance class and catching the ballet.  I cooked like a gourmet chef for myself and didn’t concern myself with closing the door to get dressed or shower.  This was a comfort I wasn’t use to but it felt freeing.  However, I kept wondering when I would talk to him.  He called me Tuesday morning while I was at work.  We chatted for a short time before he boarded the bus for the day.  It warmed my heart to hear his voice and see his face.  He was off to see Fisk University and get on with the rest of the tour.

We texted one evening while he was on the bus and no more until he was in Ohio returning home. I felt myself becoming excited as time got closer to him being back.  I needed to see him.  There is definitely strong connection between he and I and it showed its head several times while he was gone.  I missed having him around to talk, watch sports and do the things a mother asks a son to do.  Even though, I didn’t need to take that trash out until he returned, lol.  The juice stayed plentiful and my snacks remained in the cupboards all week.  I came to realize he takes my mind off being unmarried, not having more children and a very limited social circle.  

When he got in the car, all he could think about was Coney Island and seeing his home.  He spoke to the gate that shields us from some of the Detroit ills, our building in the complex and his bed.  I was happy to have him home and made note of my feelings.  I’ve been his mother everyday for 17 years (minus my vacationing hours). Even then I picked up items to bring him back from my travels.  Back before TSA became the CIA of the airport, he would run to me screaming “Mommy” and I would melt.  He’s grown over the years and thanks to great genes and prayers- he’s become the tallest person in my immediate family. That’s huge because the tallest use to be Shawn at 5’11”.  Now, he yells “Ma or Mom” when he’s trying to get my attention.  He’s become a young man and I witnessed the whole thing.  

Revelation: I need to create a healthy balance of activity to fill the void I will feel. 

9: Streaming Garden Project

No, we haven’t decided to place a stream in the church garden. I’m speaking in reference to the digital streaming that prevents us from receiving information as fast as we want. You all know how passionate I am about gardening and the assignment I have within the church. Well once again the progress was halted by congregational administration red tape. But you probably already figured that out by my lack of posts about the next step after we prepared the bed for flowers. I’ll give you the short version. Moreover I want to explain why this is an important event of my 2013.

The bed was cleared for us to prep the soil and plant the flowers as the introduction of the Herbert B. Robinson Sr. Memorial Garden project early summer. I even agreed to have the church landscaper to clear out the remaining portion of the bed because only three (3) members assisted me with the work. As I stood a little taller filled with pride over our forward movement with the endeavor, I was hit with an unforeseeable blow. They said “don’t plant yet until we get the building painted.” Okay! When are they planning to paint the building? It was so long ago, I can’t remember if they said this week or next week. Either way it went it was neither week. The summer was almost over before they painted that wall. The grass had filled the bed up again and once I again I felt defeat. A feeling I want to personalize because I find it hard to believe the church doesn’t want to have this garden prepared or functional for other events. I feel no true support for the vision I have for the space or the memory/tribute I feel is owed to the legacy of our but mainly my former pastor. There has been hurdle after hurdle and my frustration has yield a sour taste on my tongue for the non-profit. With all of these feelings I still have a desire to continue. The question is am I alone?

I’m currently, planning a schedule to present to the pastor which meets my needs and satisfies the work I want to begin. It’s been two (2) gardening seasons since this was initiated. At all times, I’m exploring other avenues to create a better life for my family. This was a portion of my talent & time offering to the church. Now that I am equipped with more information and a stubborn attitude to reject the failure I feel. It time to aggressively move in the direction I want to see on land rather than just in my dreams.

The reason this pitfall event made it to the countdown is because it displays the growth I’ve experienced over these years. The old me would have just threw her hands up and said just forget about it. The matured woman understands that sometimes you have to go about things a different way. Especially when those things will add value to your life and as much as I love making money – that’s not the value I speak of. 🙂