Full -- and Empty after 34 Years

Today is the first day.

The first day in 34 years I don't have a kid living at home.

Yesterday, Chase, Chance, Lauren and I took Charli to UCLA, the trip that should have happened last year, but was pre-empted by COVID craziness. Not gonna lie. Even though I wish Charli could have had her freshman experience on campus instead of in our living room, I cherished every bonus minute I got with her at home this past year. Plus, we got two puppies! That is directly attributable to Charli's being home and willing to pull night-time duty.

I know I harp on this, but I can't help it -- I am so in love with my kids. They made yesterday beautiful and bearable. Full of love. And hugs. And so full of laughter.

We caravaned up and ate at Lemonade near the campus. We all got, you guessed it, lemonade. It was meh. Way too sweet for my taste. But I digress.

After some time spent negotiating parking logistics (UCLA is bigger than most small towns I grew up in), we ended up at Charli's room, filled with the stuff she and Chase had unloaded from her packed-to-the-gills car. We were sure the dorm room came with a bed. But where was it? We all got to work unpacking trash bags, boxes, and a bulging duffel bag. At some point, a twin-size bed began to appear, complete with mattress protector. I guess you're never too old to have an accident. Chase said, "I think that's more to protect Charli from the mattress than the mattress from Charli." He's probably right.

The primary reason I did not completely lose my ish when we left -- Charli's roommate is one of her best friends. They've known each other since they both played on the Peach Panthers soccer team at six years old. They had shopped for dorm stuff together. Jess even brought pictures of her dogs and our pups and made a cute little heart design with them on the wall above her bed.

Their room is an eclectic mix of a neon green light-up dinosaur, stuffed animals, hand-painted art from friends, and a tie dye trash can all anchored by a space theme -- a glow-in-the-dark space clock, hanging spacemen multi-colored light string, picture of the planets, and comforters splattered with moons and stars.

So there we were, the eight of us -- the Espinozas along with Jess and her mom and dad busily folding, hanging, storing, trashing...and pretending that six of us weren't about to walk out of that dorm room holding back a flood tears.

None of these big days pass without plenty of references to Chandler in our conversations. The unspoken sentiment yesterday -- Chandler would be right here with us sporting those hallmark dimples, buttons bursting (if he was wearing a shirt) with pride for his little sister.  And also...asking her to keep an eye out for any hot single professors.

The first day without Charli here, I sit at my kitchen table reaching for the first tool I always grab to process my emotions. Writing. First, I wrote in my journal. Now I'm at my computer.

Loss isn't a single event. It is cumulative. Every loss up to this point is somehow connected to leaving Charli at UCLA and coming home to an empty house. It's all here right now. And I'm feeling all of it.

This is a good loss. A natural progression. An exciting new season for Charli. But it is a loss.

Two weeks ago at about 2 am, I heard the dogs barking and Charli yelling, "Shut up!" She'd been sleeping downstairs with the pups, and when she got up to go to bed, they decided to have a party. I remember muttering something like, "Those dogs need to shut up."

Then it hit me. I thought to myself, "I only have two more weeks left to hear Charli tell the dogs to shut up in the middle of the night." A dam broke. I sobbed harder than I've sobbed in a long time. I went to my closet with my journal and pen and cried and wrote and wrote and wrote and cried. I sat in my chair and looked out over the backyard. And cried.

In my journal, I scrawled:

I know how to be a mom. A mom with kids at home. I don't know how to be a mom with no kids at home. I know how to be an imperfect mom, not a perfect one. But I don't know how to do it with no kids at home. I don't know what it's like to not mentally keep track of someone coming through the door, safe for the night. I don't know how to not have at least one that I need to get the right groceries for. And I don't know how to say goodbye to the last one when one of the other three left without my blessing.

Losing Chandler and losing Charli -- so very different, and yet the feelings converge, and I am left in tears, wondering how I'm going to do this. 

But I will do it. I will do it because I am in the hands of boundless love and provision. Because I have friends who will help carry me. Because I have a grandbaby coming who will bring a new spark of life to our family. Because I have important work to do in the world.

Although my heart feels like it will crumble on September 18 when I take Charli to UCLA, I will keep moving forward. I will thrive, not just survive. That is my DNA.

And then yesterday came. The day I had been looking forward to for Charli's sake and dreading for mine. My mantra -- I have done hard things before. I can do this.

 And I did it. Well, not me. Our family did it. Together. WE can do hard things. Together.

 Now, baby girl, it's your time rock it at UCLA. We are cheering you on. Along with your neon green dinosaur.