The end of the nest comes suddenly, like a death, but not by surprise.
Though that makes no sense.
The grief doesn’t make sense either.
Did I want a perpetual child?
Did I want my son to live with me forever?
It is so right that he is going.
And completely wrong…
The only other time I’ve felt so at odds was at birth, when I longed to be free of the weight in my belly, and yet felt so complete with a baby inside.
I bet death is like that.
All at once, terrifying and free.