Too close to the surface

It's official--we are now "empty nesters." We dropped off our son at his college dorm last Friday and drove home the next day. I didn't cry when we said goodbye, I made it through Spanish Fork Canyon (known by other departing parents as the Canyon of Tears) just fine, and all the way across the Rocky Mountains without shedding a tear. And then we came home. To an empty house. To a quiet house. To a house without children.

And then the tears came.

I knew I was not alone in my sorrow, though in the past my husband has not been nearly as "openly sentimental," shall we say, as I had been when our children left. But we had not been home even 24 hours when he asked me, "What if there's no purpose to life without children at home?"

That was the golden question. We sat behind a family with small children at church that day and I found myself starting to cry every time I looked at them. And at the end of church I kept looking for my son and then tearing up when I realized he wasn't there. Frankly, I was a mess. I needed to get a grip. Emotions were much too close to the surface and I didn't want to make everyone around me uncomfortable (i.e. "Why is Shireen curled up in the fetal position, rocking back and forth and sobbing?"). There had been no tragedy in my life--just the fact that I love my children so much and miss them.

So I guess that the thing to do at this point is just accept what is. Feelings are close to the surface--accept it and know that I am normal. Though I should probably stay away from any YouTube videos with babies in them for a while unless I'm sure that no one is watching.