I have not written in a while because I have begun to feel a deep sadness; loneliness, and total lack of purpose. Naw, I’m not depressed, a word I believe is significantly overused. I am suffering from the ubiquitous “Empty Nest Syndrome.”
I pooh-poohed this concept when it was first prescribed, saying, “Not so. I’m glad they are gone. I can run around the house naked.” Problem there is I ran around the house naked when they were living at home. I loved doing that to them. What good are kids if you can’t traumatize them a little bit, Eh?
They are my two sons, Brennan, 23, and Sean, 18. They’re going to college and working. They are living their lives elsewhere. I still see them. They are fine and are right on schedule, as my dear friend, Barney, used to say about the progressions of life. I just miss the hell out of ’em.
Actually, not so much them, which is true, but also the purpose of them. They gave me a reason for getting up in the morning. It was for them that I worked. It was for them I lived at home. It was for them I was married. The latter is an interesting development because since they’ve been gone, I have grown ever more close to my lovely bride of lo’ these many years. Eileen, my wife, is a Godsend. No question about that.
My heart, though, is heavy with despair. Just is. I have grown used to their companionship; arguing with them, which was constant in the last couple of years. They were growing, thinking, challenging. All good stuff.
I am so proud of them. It oftentimes hurts. I love them beyond reason. That oftentimes causes a sudden influx of tears. They are right on schedule. Where they’re supposed to be. Doing what they are supposed to be doing.
I just miss the hell out of ’em. Well, there is some consolation in the Discovery Channel. I will always have survival shows to keep me company. Ah! Such a life.