Opinion: Nothing Compares to Empty Nest Syndrome

(July 27) -- Mortarboards have been thrown, transcripts sent, dorm walls measured, orientation trips planned. All set. Good to go. Congrats on the success, good luck on the next chapter and, woo-hoo, we just couldn't be prouder. It's time to let go and launch the child and all I know is ... my very cool roommate is moving out and I'm going to miss him.

There are various rites of passage we go through as parents: Pregnancy, Teething, Toddler, Puberty, etc. They all have Capital Letters. And each comes with an unwritten guide that gets us through the shoals with instruction and reassurance that whatever we're thinking/feeling/experiencing is simply part of the phase. Hang on, we're all going through it, nothing to be afraid of. Fevering madly? Teething. Screaming for dear life? Teething. Eating dirt with enthusiasm? You get the idea. And Puberty? Every whine-fest, every meltdown, every door-slamming, hair-flinging stomp out of the kitchen is ascribed to the unavoidable transition from childhood to hormones.

But there's one rite of passage every parent faces that's unlike any other -- Empty Nest Syndrome. You know it's going to happen but it's still shocking when it does. And like any loss, ENS is unique to each person -- for the one parent gleefully booking a September cruise, there's another sleeping in the departed child's bed.

Sensitivity is required. May I suggest a few very subjective pointers?

1. Don't tell me, "It's his time to fly ... you just have to let him go." I already know that. No one wants his successful flight more than I do.

2. Refrain from: "You'll need to find new things to keep yourself busy after he leaves." No, I don't. I have plenty to do. I was busy before and I'll be busy after. He wasn't around much anyway. It's not about filling time; it's about missing him.

3. Try to avoid: "You'll be surprised how nice it'll be when you don't have to do his laundry or look at his messy room anymore." That'll be surprising? I've been looking forward to that for years! But regardless of the bomb site that is his room, I've always loved knowing he was down the hall, ready to make me laugh, help me with my website or talk to me about his girlfriend. That trumps dirty laundry.

4. Don't bother with: "But he'll come home for breaks and summers, right?" We all know that once the family system embraces the Initial Departure, it's never the same as Before They Left. We can't pretend.

5. And please, do not send articles that analyze ENS and suggest therapy or herbs or calming pharmaceuticals. I'm not having a breakdown; my kid is just leaving home.

Parenthood is one of the few relationships that comes with planned obsolescence. We go into it fully knowing we've got to leap now and let go later.

There's no other such deal in life (except life itself). We get married and the plan is till death do us part. It doesn't always work out but that's the idea ... we aren't required to give it up at a preordained time. With our friends, there's absolutely no reason to believe we can't keep them through the dotage years. A loving pet is under our feet and in our beds until the very end.

But a child? We get them only for a while. We know that this one relationship, this special, amazing, unique and glorious relationship, is going to change and develop and transform every minute of every day and in about 18 years time, will naturally evolve away from us in a way that is inevitable and irreversible.

It's the Circle of Life, the Coming of Age, the Passing of the Mantle. It's perfect and painful at the same time.

But know this: Most of us suffering from ENS need no advice. No drugs, no therapy, no words of wisdom. We know what is happening and we know it must happen.

We're proud of our children, proud of ourselves for our part in their success. We're excited for the new adventures they'll embrace and vicariously thrilled by their flight.

We're ready to welcome them back for the moments they'll briefly return but have no delusion about keeping them forever in their cozy childhood rooms. We're the ones gently, lovingly, pushing them out the door to their inevitable independence. We're good parents and we know what we're supposed to do.

But still ... I had a very cool roommate for 18 years and now he's moving out. I'm really going to miss him.

Lorraine Devon Wilke is a performer and writer based in Los Angeles who appreciates the complexity of dealing with ENS as her son heads off to college. For more complete information, please visit LorraineDevonWilke.com or her blog, Rock Paper Music.