about a month ago i found a poem
that my oldest son wrote many years ago,
after his first week ever away from home.
a poem that described what homesickness feels like.
he expressed the emotion vividly, using all his senses.
and it ended with this line,
this line that has stuck with me.
“homesickness feels like you can’t swallow.”
i’ve come to realize there is no better description.
because lately i too have been having difficulty swallowing.
for me, homesickness isn’t longing for a specific place.
because the feeling lodged in my throat went away
when my sons visited at christmas.
no, for me, homesickness means being away from my family.
my nuclear family that numbered four for so long,
then endured so much change in the space of one year.
when they left, it hurt once again to swallow.
they were only here for eighteen days.
but i miss those two guys.
their unforgettable presence.
this villa is big and empty and quiet without them.
the legos that they dragged out from their childhood days
are now sitting in their bins untouched.
no more singing or piano playing,
no more brotherly jabs or jokes.
and no more skateboarding through the house.
i’ve had a rough couple of days since they left.
i’ve done a lot of crying for what used to be.
but i’m going to allow myself a short period of grief,
and then try to bravely pull it together.
because my sons are doing well,
each on his own.
they’re smart, independent, capable.
they’re good men.
their parents moved far away,
and are no longer readily accessible.
but they’ve risen to the occasion.
and that means i can relax.
i will miss them.
always and like crazy.
but i can relax.
and that’s good.
because i need to get back to work on the villa.
i have a retreat coming up!
*******
i’d planned a post to reveal
my word of the year for 2017.
in fact, it is mostly written.
but sometimes sorting out complicated
emotions of the heart is more important.
my word will still be around next week.
*******
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*******
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I have a few friends going through those similar feelings with children studying abroad.. What I notice, as you point out, is that they have risen to the occasion.. The lump is there, but you know they are fine and excelling. I don’t know if that lump ever goes away, but perhaps it will become smaller, or change shape and make those times a little less bitter and more sweet somehow. Happy New Year.
I headed off to explore the world at 21 and a 10 week trip turned into almost 4 years away from home. I don’t know how my mum managed as we are so close. For me it was a great adventure, I can’t imagine how I’ll feel when our kids head out into the world but reading your post bought a heavy weight to my heart and I can feel for your grief. xxx
Your words hit me hard April. It’s so difficult to let go and let everyone live their lives to grow. But so lovely that your sons came over to visit. Moments to cherish for sure.
Just reading your words brought tears to my eyes. I can completely connect with what that must feel like for all of you. I love how you say, “but sometimes sorting out complicated emotions of the heart is more important. my word will still be around next week.” There it is – what’s really important. Such a wonderful example you set for all of us! Thank you for sharing your joys and your heartaches, April. You are a gift to us all!!
Oh….such perfect words, “homesickness feels like you can’t swallow.” I had tears in my eyes, and yes I felt like I couldn’t swallow as I read your post. I feel the same way…for so long our nuclear family was 3…my two sons and me. It is a testament to our mothering or parenting that our children are able to navigate their lives with us not accessible as before. And oh, I long for those 18 days as you had, and I applaud your ability to move on to the next phase of your path.