Timeless Words from a Seventies Mom Facing an Empty Nest
The feelings that come like a flood when mothers face the impending empty nest are universal and timeless. Whether they have stayed at home, or have enjoyed rewarding careers, many mothers feel varying degrees of loss and confusion as their children head out into the world.
Recently, I wrote about what it means to be a writer and mentioned my discovery of my mother’s writing when clearing out their house. In 1974, my stay-at-home mom was anticipating the departure of her children and wrote a poignant essay about it. Mothers throughout time have felt the way she did, and many today feel the same, as they suddenly realize that their children have minds of their own. I know I felt like she did when my own kids were heading out, even though I had a busy career that should have been a suitable distraction.
My mom wrote this before she discovered that her children would need her again, but in different ways from when they were young. I wish I could go back in time and tell her that it does get better. This piece is a valuable read for mothers, but for young people, too, because it might help them understand how their moms (and dads) might feel in this time of transformation. Here it is (lightly edited):
WHO WAS MOTHER?
She thought it meant making everyone happy and proud with good meals, squeaky-clean windows, shiny floors, and the smell of baking bread.
Ten minutes a day, given to each one trying to solve every conceivable problem, and she, just happy being needed. Hours spent in worry, wonder, heartache, and rewards. Magic hours indeed!
Did something make it change? Or was it she herself? Was she no longer needed, wanted—actually expendable? Everyone had grown up and she was not sure she was ready for it. Things were all done their own way now; all new to her. Was this what she had taught them? Their new values, morals, and ways of love?
Where did she still fit? She felt like an odd piece in the puzzle of life that she’d never worked before. She knew she was no longer the hub. Just a centerfold; something to be brought out for the amusement of friends and self at their will. Earthly comforts she still occasionally brought when they were asked for. No longer, however, the comfort of that wise Mother with all the answers and no cracks in her armor. Just the means to fill an empty belly or a bored mind.
She sat and wondered if she were again the mainspring of that once great organization called her family, would she do it all differently? Even if she could, she reminded herself that this was today, so she desperately plunged ahead, doing what she knew she was still good at.
But, was it enough? Already, they’d grown taller; and believed themselves wiser than her and the rest of her generation. They so easily seemed to withstand all the hate and cruelty in the world, so in this sense they might be far wiser, for she knew she had yet to master that task in life.
Yet, she wondered if they would ever know what she called “fulfillment.” Fading fast, yet still a beautiful memory of not so long ago, the meaning of true love and real heartbreak remained with her.
Spawned from love, but matured to indifference, where was all they once claimed they had learned at her knee? Was this all she could ever teach them?
She took no credit nor blame for her heart’s feelings, and despite its battered condition, it still beat for understanding, peace, and love. Maybe someday, if the world did not change them too much, a tiny flicker of memory would spark them to wonder what she was trying to say. Perhaps, they would have to feel it themselves, as she herself had, before they could understand what they were harvesting for their own children.
From there, she went on. Finding new outlets for the love she still yearned to give. Somewhere, somehow, there might have been a need for a slightly used, visibly scarred, human being. And for some mysterious reason, when her eyes closed to the world, she gave thanks to God for letting her spend her life just being a Mother.
Written by: Mary Lou Silverthorn 6/13/74
What a beautiful writing! I could completely relate to my empty nest experience and the eventual feeling of being unneeded and not very smart. After I read this to mom we spent some time talking about the Waldinger kids growing up with very young happy times and the times that were difficult as young adults, marrying, and having children. It’s not until our current ages that we begin to understand the times when we, as daughters, felt the wide canyon between ourselves and our mothers. WWe didn’t understand the very hard times they had growing up. How their fathers and husbands affected their self worth and how they related to us. I always thought we were the richest family on the block. Everyone always wanted to come to our house to play. And we were very rich in the love we had for each other. But growing older, I begin to remember the memories we blocked for so long. Memories that pop up with a shake of our heads, others came as nightmares you can’t believe really happened. You realize that your children will never understand how you and your mother struggled, some of the same struggles you had with your children and until they experience it for themselves, will never understand the heartache of letting go that lasts her lifetime. Thank you, Ann, for sharing your moms story. ❤️
Thank you for sharing your story, Karen. I’m so glad you shared it with your mom and you were able to have a heartfelt discussion. It’s interesting how we all have these conflicting memories of the old days. Some good, some not so good. I loved reading what you had to say about this topic. <3