So the day came. I've already written about the prospect of "Empty Nest Syndrome" but I had no idea what it would actually feel like on the day. We somehow managed to load all my daughter's stuff into my (poor old) car, and set off early in the morning for her University.
I think I was in some sort of numb denial on the journey. We were laughing and joking, playing her music through the car's stereo, all the stuff we'd done a million times but I knew at the end of the day that my wife and I would be returning alone.
We got there amidst absolute chaos. Drop-off days are always like this, a bit like when you go to stay at a Center Parcs and have to try and unload all your luggage from your car within an hour, before getting fined or clamped. In fact yes, it was exactly like that.
It was a burning hot day too, and we had about 20 separate 'loads' of stuff to hawk up three flights of stairs to my daughter's new digs. The room itself wasn't too bad, and it didn't take my daughter long to 'make it her own' - unloading all the trinkets and items she'd brought to make the place feel more like home (while her poor suffering parents humped huge boxes of cleaning materials, food, clothes and god knows what else).
Thankfully before long she met a couple of her flatmates, and was soon engaged in excited conversation. We'd originally decided to take her out for dinner, "the last supper" as it were, but we didn't get to do that - and instead opted for no long goodbyes. As it turns out, this was probably the right decision.
As I made my way back down to the car, I burst into tears. I managed to cover it up fairly well but tears literally exploded out of my face. I hadn't cried like that since she was born but this was different, this was really raw.
When my wife joined me a while later, I was in pieces. Trying to drive while crying that hard is probably really stupid and dangerous, but despite my wife urging me to pull over and cry it out, I just wanted to get away from the place as quickly as possible. We didn't actually stop until a motorway services place a couple of hours away, stopping for food (I had no appetite but tried to eat something). Every single time I thought about the situation I'd start crying again, to the point where I felt like I couldn't actually get a breath in. Eventually I couldn't actually cry any more.
That evening I was pretty much the same, and went to bed, not sleeping but determined to try and spend the rest of the week (which I'd thankfully taken off work) in distraction mode, trying to do things to take my mind off it all, and also trying not to be a complete burden to my wife - who, as usual, managed to put on a tougher front.
I was OK until our first WhatsApp call with our daughter - where I think she started to have her own first feelings of homesickness. She cried a lot, and any parent will tell you that the worst thing you'll have to endure in this world is seeing your child upset. I had to ditch the call as I started sobbing again.
The next day she seemed to wake up with a fresh determination, and everything started to fall into place. She coped well with her room having a leaking sink, she started to cook her own meals for the first time (and they looked great!), she started to take her first tentative steps towards proper independence and studentship.
Since that day she's made friends, including a really awesome girl in her flat. She's flirted with boys, she's been clubbing for the first time and seems to be a lot happier. Now and again there are moments where she starts to falter a little (mostly from the usual day to day things all us adults struggle with) but it made me feel a lot better, and I realised that a lot of the way I was feeling was not only selfish, but a bit shitty tbh. How dare I assume that I would always be the person she'd rely on for everything? How fucking egotistical!
My wife has been incredible. We decided to book a spa weekend (we'd shared spa days before but we decided to push the boat out for our wedding anniversary and booked a luxurious stayover and 2 days of spa treatments). I needed it, and I don't think I realised just how much I needed it - we both did.
We talked a lot - probably more than we ever have, and she made me realise again just how selfish and needy I could be, and how a lot of my reaction to kiddo flying the nest really came from that.
It also comes from a good place. A fatherly place. Not ever having had a father figure myself (my own dad being pretty fecking useless), I realised that I'd tried to always do the right thing by my daughter, and be there for her. When I think of all the dad and daughter moments we've shared, I also know that a lot of where my emotional response to this thing came from is from those moments we've shared together, and the realisation that this phase of our life is now over, to be replaced by something completely different but not unwelcome. I'll always be there for her, and she'll always need some fatherly advice, so I now have to adapt to that - and more than that, my wife and I need to start living for ourselves too. That's going to be hard to adjust to.
For now I feel OK. I still worry, I will never stop worrying about her and of course it'll still upset me when she's upset but it will get easier.
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