Discovering What's Left

A TV sitcom I watched a few weeks ago took an interesting look at the "empty nest syndrome" that mothers often experience when their last child heads off to school. In that scenario, it was the father who seemed to be experiencing the feeling of not being needed any longer. When his wife finally got him to reveal why he was depressed, he confessed, "I always knew what was next, but now I can't think of what's left… except death." That comment was meant to be funny, but it really struck a cord with me and, for some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Now I think I've finally figured out why.

I always thought there was something wrong with me because I never experienced the empty nest syndrome—not when my last child went off to kindergarten; not when my last child went off to college; and not even when the last child finally moved out of the house for good.  Of course, I missed them, but I didn't experience that sense of loss that so many mothers (and probably more fathers than one would think) seem to experience. What I felt was more a sense of freedom—an unburdening—and even a sense of pride in knowing that all four of our children were successfully launched into their own homes and were on their way to building careers, and making plans for their futures. Of course, I wasn't foolish enough to believe that my job as a mother was completely done—a mother never stops worrying about her children—but I was excited about the possibility of doing things I'd always wanted to do, without having to consider how it might impact my children.

Although our nest was empty, I never found myself wondering what was left. I just knew. There would be more time to continue building my career as a freelance writer, more time to read, have lunches and dinners with friends, and, most important, more time to travel with my husband, and just enjoy our time together, uninterrupted by the needs of others. Those empty nest years were all I hoped for, at least as long as they lasted.

When my husband died, I finally learned what it felt like to experience the empty nest syndrome. My nest was emptier than I ever would have imagined. I had never contemplated a life without Art, so for the first time that I can remember, I actually did find myself wondering what was next. However, as bereft as I felt, I didn't think the only thing left was death. I knew, instinctively, there would be something. Life does go on, and I still had my family and friends—and my career (if I still wanted it).

If you've stuck with me this long, you're probably wondering when I'm gong to get to the point, so here it is. In my moments of doubt after I finally made the decision to move to a CCRC, I couldn't  help but think that choosing the CCRC was "the beginning of the end." Although I said it was what I wanted, I wondered if I was just looking for a place to "bide my time"—without all the worries associated with owning a home or condo—while waiting to die? Is that what most people who choose CCRCs are doing? Are they just waiting to die? It's easy to be fooled when you see some residents in the halls and common areas using walkers and canes,  or riding  motorized scooters; but it didn't take me long to discover that my neighbors at Cypress Cove didn't come here to die. They came here to live. And boy do they know how to live!

They are busy every day volunteering at the convenient store; managing our two libraries; tutoring employees for whom English is a second language; running a woodshop where they not only make beautiful wooden bowls and other pieces of art, but also build bookcases, entertainment units and other needed items for fellow residents. They serve on numerous committees. They attend, and even teach, a variety of exercise classes. They help organize a series of monthly lectures and other entertainment programs.  They share all kinds of special talents (painting, sewing, photography…) with anyone who wants to learn a new skill; and they do so much more.

In their "spare" time they play bocce, shuffle board, bridge, Euchre, billiards, Mah Jongg, bingo, horseshoes… They go out to lunch together, attend concerts and theater presentations, and go on group cruises and sight-seeing trips. They compete in remote-controlled yacht races and host Monday afternoon happy hours at the "Yacht Club." The residents at Cypress Cove definitely know how to party, and they never miss an opportunity!

No one I've met in this community is sitting around wondering what's left. They've found what's left and they're enjoying every minute of it.