The day that all parents must face finally came on Saturday.   It was full of excitement as all that would be needed for a year in university halls was packed into one car, and then two cars with four people headed to the city for dropping off.

All day we kept it light hearted.   There was a bit of a laugh as one car could only be parked for 45 minutes at a time, which meant that a driver kept disappearing to find a new place to stop.   All the planning ahead proved useful, as the long queue was quickly mastered when we got to the top with everything paid and all contracts signed, and sailed on to take up residence.   All belongings were lifted up three flights of stairs.

The young person wanted to sort the room themselves, and planned to have that as something to do once the other three had gone.   Lunch was shared, a small shop bought, and then three left in two now empty cars.

Three are missing one, and I suspect that one is missing three.   The first night was hard, and I did not sleep.   I’ve not been sleeping recently because of the noise the young person made “gaming” in the other room.   Instead on this occasions it was the silence that kept me awake.

Church was an interesting experience.   At first the singing of hymns did what it has done before, and emotions crept through the words stopping me from singing.   By the end of the second service the emptiness was changing.

The second night has been easier, but only just.   Perhaps I should have not taken a day off so early after the moving out as I’m not sure what to do with myself today.   Although I would be no good for those who are looking for solace as I would weep with them, and perhaps instead of them.

I feel like such a wimp.   We have spent 18 years creating a young person who would be capable of leaving home and caring for themselves as they experienced the world.   I think we have done that.

It’s hard though, recognising that they must not need you if they are to make their way in the world.   We are the safety net, but not the propellor.   That is their task now.

After three months of noise in the house, waiting for this time of silence to come, today it feels too much.   However 12 weeks at the most to wait until it returns, and in reality I know it will be sooner as I have no doubts that the young person will be home before Christmas.

In the meantime there is planning for our own different life to happen.   I’ll maybe venture into the newly spare room, and see if I can begin to reclaim some order so it is waiting for whoever needs it.   Then once that is done, I will have to accept that in four years time I will have to go through these emotions all over again.