Latest news with #emptynesters
CTV News
18 hours ago
- Business
- CTV News
St-Lazare family selling modified home as is after province suspends home adaptation program
Quebec's aging population and the growing demand for adapted houses have created a new opportunity for some real estate agents. Quebec's aging population and the growing demand for adapted houses have created a new opportunity for some real estate agents who now try to sell houses already modified for a clientele with special needs. After their kids moved out of their St-Lazare home, empty nesters Ann Gagnon and Brian Wraight find themselves in a house that's too big for their needs. 'I actually I have no problems letting go,' explains Gagnon from the living room of her family's single-story house, which sits on half an acre of semi-wooded land. 'It was a beautiful home. It gave us beautiful memories. But it's first and foremost way too big for both of us. There's four bathrooms to wash. No, thank you.' The couple's children, Kiern and Bradley, grew up with physical limitations. Everything in the home was adapted for their needs, from access ramps to special lifts to move them in and out of their beds, as well as widened doors and adapted bathrooms. The two are now adults, living at the Philou specialized group home in Ahuntsic. In the real estate world, sellers are normally encouraged to remove these adapted features to increase their appeal on the market. The couple's real estate broker and agent, Peter Thompson, had a better idea. 'I felt differently about it, only because I thought, well, if something is unique, then it's, to me, it's more valuable,' said Thompson, who recently listed the home for $785,000. Quebec has a program that provides up to $50,000 to help families with special needs adapt their homes. But in an email to CTV News, the Quebec housing corporation, known in French as the Société d'habitation du Québec (SHQ), admitted there was a major backlog from people demanding assistance for the time being. Thompson says that the backlog opened up a market for modified homes -- an opinion shared by the parents. 'I do believe that more families that have adapted homes are going to be advertising them as is. Instead of taking away the equipment and hoping they're going to just sell it,' Gagnon said. The couple now hopes that whoever buys their house will benefit from the changes they made, all to care for their children. 'We're hoping because I'm very involved in the special needs community and I realize and see the numbers that are growing every year, whether it's a child or a grandparent or even the person themselves who need the home,' Gagnon said. It's an investment, they say, that made life easier for everyone living under their roof.
Yahoo
a day ago
- General
- Yahoo
We Had A Life That Looked Good On The Surface. Then We Sold Everything We Owned To Travel The World Full Time.
When my husband and I told people we were selling everything we owned to travel full time, most assumed we were either having a midlife crisis or chasing an early retirement fantasy. The truth is, it was neither. It was something we couldn't quite explain at the time, only that we felt called to do it. We were 50-something empty nesters with 35 years of marriage under our belt. We had four grown daughters and nine grandkids, a house we loved, a business we'd built, and a life that, on the surface, looked good. And it was good, even if we felt like something was missing. We had fallen into a rhythm that felt more like repetition. It was like living the same day over and over again. Then, during COVID, I had a cancer scare. It turned out to be benign, but in the long, terrifying weeks of waiting, everything shifted. All the routines and responsibilities that once felt essential suddenly seemed arbitrary. I realized how easily we could run out of time, and how much of our lives we had spent putting things off. That experience cracked something open in us. We started asking harder questions. What if we stopped waiting for the right time? What if we actually did the thing we always said we'd do 'someday'? We started joking about 'running away' and living out of a suitcase. Then the jokes turned into spreadsheets. Spreadsheets turned into lists. And before we knew it, we were sitting on our living room floor, surrounded by decades of stuff, packing up donations and wondering if we'd completely lost our minds. Spoiler: We had. In the best possible way. We sold the house, the cars, even the furniture. We got rid of the lawnmower, the sectional, and the juicer I swore I'd use one day. We kept what we could carry in two suitcases, put a few special things in storage, and had a sense of purpose that was both thrilling and terrifying. We boarded a one-way flight to Bali with vague plans to return for Christmas. We had no fixed itinerary and absolutely no idea what we were doing. That was two years ago. Since then, we've lived in 15 countries, traveled more than 120,000 miles, and learned more about ourselves than we did in the previous 30 years combined. The logistics were tough, but the emotional part was even harder. How do you explain to your adult kids that you're leaving? Not just for a week or two, but for the foreseeable future. That you're skipping the stability you once preached and embracing a lifestyle that even you don't fully understand? There were tears. There was confusion. There were hugs and heart-to-hearts and promises to FaceTime. One of our grandkids asked if we were going to live in space. Another said, 'You'll be back in a week.' I laughed at the time, but part of me wondered if they were right. Some of them think we're on every airplane they see in the sky. You should see the looks of confusion when we're actually with them and they see a plane overhead. I wrestled with guilt in ways I never expected. I had been a mom for so long, and was so excited to be a grandmother. It felt strange to center myself in the story of my own life. What kind of woman chooses adventure over baking cookies with her grandkids? But here's the thing. I spent decades making sure everyone else was OK. This was the first time I asked what I wanted. And what I wanted was to live intentionally, explore the world with my husband, and create a new kind of legacy, one built not just on stability, but on curiosity and courage. When we landed in Bali, it was raining. We ended up booking a beautiful Airbnb that turned out to be way out in the countryside. There was a beach across the street, but no grocery stores nearby and no public transportation. That first night, we sat in our villa and quietly wondered if we'd made a huge mistake. And then something shifted. We found rhythm in the chaos. We rented a scooter and slowly started exploring. We began falling in love with our little town of Balian. We didn't know what we were doing and that was the point. We woke up every day with nothing to do and nowhere to be. It was a kind of freedom we hadn't known since our 20s. We explored neighborhoods on foot, tried foods we couldn't pronounce, got lost, and found hidden cafés and quiet moments that reminded us why we were doing this. Some days were magic. Other days were mundane. This wasn't a vacation. It was life, just in a new time zone, with monkeys, surfing and nasi goreng. We started sharing our journey online through our blog, and our Instagram. What began as a way to keep family updated quickly turned into something more: a space to inspire others who felt like they had missed their shot at adventure. People would message us saying, 'I didn't know you could do this at 50,' or, 'My kids are grown and I feel stuck. Thank you for showing another way.' That was when we realized this wasn't just our story. It was something bigger. One of the most surprising things we learned? You don't have to be extremely wealthy to travel full time. We live on $3,000 a month, and sometimes even less. We rent long-term Airbnbs in walkable neighborhoods. We cook most of our meals. We take public transportation and book flights based on what's cheapest, not what's most convenient. Letting the deal determine the destination has taken us to places we never expected: Vietnam, Thailand, even France and Spain. Some of our favorite places were ones we'd never even considered. People often assume travel is all luxury and leisure, but the truth is, this lifestyle is as much about problem-solving as it is about passports. We've dealt with visa mix-ups, broken washing machines, language barriers, food poisoning, lost luggage, and a phone that got stolen on the metro on our first day in Paris. We've also had more conversations with strangers, more spontaneous dance parties, and more 'I can't believe this is our life' moments than we can count. The hardest part isn't travel; it's the distance. I won't sugarcoat it. Being away from our kids and grandkids is the hardest part. We've missed birthday parties and baby teeth and all the little in-between moments you don't realize are sacred until you're watching them on a screen. I've cried in hotel rooms and on train platforms. I've questioned whether we're doing the right thing more times than I can count. But I've also learned that presence isn't just physical. We send voice memos and pictures. We read bedtime stories over Zoom. We send postcards from every city we visit. We help with piano practice over FaceTime. We tell them about the world and how big and beautiful it is, and that they can be part of it, too. And when we do visit home, which we plan intentionally a few times a year, our time together feels richer, deeper, more present. Because we're not exhausted. We're not running on empty or counting the minutes until the weekend. We're showing up as our fullest selves. There's this myth that by 50, you should have it all figured out. That reinvention is for the young. That it's too late to start over. But the truth is, this chapter, the one after raising kids, building careers, and checking all the boxes, can be the most freeing of all. Success used to look like a paid-off mortgage, a big career, and a packed calendar. Now, it looks like a morning walk through a market in Bali or working from a quiet French café in a town square. It looks like having time to think, to connect, to breathe. It also looks like learning to trust myself again. To make decisions not based on expectations, but on intuition. To be OK with not knowing what comes next. And the most surprising part? The more we've embraced uncertainty, the more certain we feel. If you're reading this and thinking, That sounds amazing, but I could never do that, I want you to know: I thought that, too. I also know what a privilege it is to be able to choose this path. Not everyone has the flexibility, resources or support to travel the world full time, and I'm deeply grateful every day that we get to live this way. We didn't have it all figured out. Honestly, we still don't. But we did it anyway. And that's what made it meaningful. You don't have to sell everything and move abroad to reclaim your life. But you can say yes to something that scares you. You can want more, even if your life looks full on paper. You can choose yourself, even if you've spent years choosing everyone else. This isn't a story about travel. It's a story about permission. About listening to the little whisper inside that says, 'What if?' and then daring to find out. We're still figuring it out, one country, one mistake, one unforgettable moment at a time. But if there's one thing I know for sure, it's this: It's never too late to live a life that feels like your own. A travel writer, blogger, and grandmother of nine who has lived in 15 countries, Shelly Peterson shares honest travel stories and tips at and runs a flight deal service that helps travelers chase their own adventures When she's not exploring a new destination, you can usually find her playing the harp, trying new recipes or soaking up the sun by the ocean. Do you have a compelling personal story you'd like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we're looking for here and send us a pitch at pitch@ Solve the daily Crossword
Yahoo
2 days ago
- General
- Yahoo
Now that my kids are off to college, what's this empty nester dad to do?
This month, our twin boys — our only children — will fly the coop and head off to university. For the first time in 19 years, just two of us and our 12-pound Maltese Shih Tzu will be rattling around inside our family home. The laughter and music that have echoed off the walls will be gone, and my wife and I will enter a new, uncertain phase of life. We will become empty nesters. Admittedly, this is a rather stark interpretation of what empty nesting is going to be, but we hope we're well-prepared. We've been discussing our dreams for the future, exploring the restaurants that we never quite had time to frequent, and the pickleball paddles have been ordered. Still, it's been hard to ignore the daunting finality that has been creeping up on us for years. Empty nesting is a phrase that seems to be laden with heartache and trepidation. With high school graduation approaching last May, we could feel an emotional knife twisting as our social media feeds filled with nostalgic images of the first day of kindergarten alongside the last day of 12th grade. We started becoming hyperaware of the imminent transition, my wife even describing a dagger of pain in the grocery store when she bought a packet of brown paper lunch bags for the last time. It really does feel like only yesterday that our boys arrived together, their births announced to the world on air by my CNN International colleagues. Since then, we have anxiously wondered if the boys will be ready when it's time for them to take off on their own. But then I began wondering if the question should instead be, 'Are we ready?' Are we prepared for the transition back from 'parents' to 'couple'? I often think of an old friend in London who raised five children over about 25 years. When the last one left, she said she turned to her husband and, for the first time in a quarter of a century, asked, 'So, how are you?' We're obviously not the first generation to have experienced empty nesting, a concept reportedly coined in 1914 and popularized in the 1970s, but we may be the first generation to have openly talked about it. Former first lady Michelle Obama recently discussed how she was using therapy to transition to a new phase of life after having 'launched' her daughters. Celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay admitted that he was so sad when his son went off to university that he went into his son's bedroom and put on a pair of his underwear. Ramsay's heartfelt honesty also shatters a myth about empty nesting that it's only moms who are emotional when the children leave. The British author Celia Dodd, who recently updated her 2011 book, 'The Empty Nest: How to Survive and Stay Close to Your Adult Child,' told me that dads often seem to be coping fine with the transition but might be struggling the most. 'I thought my husband was just being a heartless bastard,' she recalled of the time her eldest son left home. 'He was going, 'It's great, they'll have a great time.' Whereas in fact he was feeling just as sad as I did. I think a lot of men feel there's not space for them to talk about how they feel, because they're supporting their partner and they're supporting the kids.' An understanding of how fathers might be affected in no way minimizes the attachment between mothers and their children, a bond that is (mostly) formed in the womb. Other parents have told me to expect a multitude of emotions, but surely the most immediate will be the sense of loss in the weeks after departure. 'When empty nesters talk about the teenagers,' the comedian Jim Gaffigan quipped, 'they always sound like they're describing a hurricane: 'My wife and I thought we were prepared; we lost everything!'' Madonna wasn't quite so dramatic when she talked about her daughter Lourdes leaving, but she still compared it to losing an arm. Once you've come to terms with that, there is often an identity crisis to navigate. As Dodd wrote in 'The Empty Nest,' 'To me, it was glaringly obvious that parting from a child who has been the centre of your life for twenty-odd years is a really big deal. Yet while new parents are bombarded with advice, empty nest parents are left to muddle through what is arguably the most challenging phase of parenting.' She added, 'It is the flipside of the seismic emotional adjustment that new parents go through with the birth of their first baby. A return to life without children — while still being a parent — requires another massive readjustment of self and your place in the world.' Since my parents' generation, there has been a revolution in family life. Dodd has observed that many modern-day parents are closer to their kids than they once were to their own parents. They're more involved in their lives, and some even want to be friends with them. I'm immensely proud of my sons, and I'm excited for their future, and as hard as it will be to let go, I recognize that it's crucial for all of us to shift the dynamic in our family relationship. They know that we're always here if they need us, but we don't intend to check in every day to see how they're doing. Perhaps the greatest concern is the increasing divorce rate among empty nesters. On a recent trip home to London, some friends of mine ran through the list of our peers who had recently been separated. It was anecdotal, but the handful of cases seemed alarmingly high. Why can even seemingly rock-solid couples run into problems when it's just the two of them at home? 'It's hard to imagine what life will be like when there's just the two of you, and it's natural to wonder what on earth you'll find to talk about,' Dodd wrote. 'One mother sums it up: 'Suddenly you're on your own and you look at each other and realise you haven't paid much attention to each other for years.' I want my kids to succeed and find their independence; the ultimate parental dream is to see our children soar. Equally, mine seem to recognize the void their departure will create — our sons have asked more than once if we'll be OK when they're gone. Such a level of emotional maturity signals to me that they'll be just fine on their own. Having thought about this impending transition for many years, I no longer fear it; in fact, I'm learning to embrace it. Planning and preparation are important, as is the mindset — we shouldn't be 'filling a hole' but finding a purpose. Intentional date nights are already back on the calendar, and my wife is excited to devote her full time to her art career. My creative space is the yard and garden, so finally the plants will have my full care and attention, and I'm one step closer to keeping the beehives I've been dreaming about. For the coming months, we've bought tickets to ghost tours and shows and even a gig in Canada, which seems very rock 'n' roll. The oft-quoted translation that the Chinese symbol for crisis means both danger and opportunity may not be totally accurate, but I choose to believe it at this stage of my life. It's not just our children who are gaining their independence; we're going to rediscover it, too. Get inspired by a weekly roundup on living well, made simple. Sign up for CNN's Life, But Better newsletter for information and tools designed to improve your well-being. Solve the daily Crossword
CNN
2 days ago
- General
- CNN
Now that my kids are off to college, what's this empty nester dad to do?
This month, our twin boys — our only children — will fly the coop and head off to university. For the first time in 19 years, just two of us and our 12-pound Maltese Shih Tzu will be rattling around inside our family home. The laughter and music that have echoed off the walls will be gone, and my wife and I will enter a new, uncertain phase of life. We will become empty nesters. Admittedly, this is a rather stark interpretation of what empty nesting is going to be, but we hope we're well-prepared. We've been discussing our dreams for the future, exploring the restaurants that we never quite had time to frequent, and the pickleball paddles have been ordered. Still, it's been hard to ignore the daunting finality that has been creeping up on us for years. Empty nesting is a phrase that seems to be laden with heartache and trepidation. With high school graduation approaching last May, we could feel an emotional knife twisting as our social media feeds filled with nostalgic images of the first day of kindergarten alongside the last day of 12th grade. We started becoming hyperaware of the imminent transition, my wife even describing a dagger of pain in the grocery store when she bought a packet of brown paper lunch bags for the last time. It really does feel like only yesterday that our boys arrived together, their births announced to the world on air by my CNN International colleagues. Since then, we have anxiously wondered if the boys will be ready when it's time for them to take off on their own. But then I began wondering if the question should instead be, 'Are we ready?' Are we prepared for the transition back from 'parents' to 'couple'? I often think of an old friend in London who raised five children over about 25 years. When the last one left, she said she turned to her husband and, for the first time in a quarter of a century, asked, 'So, how are you?' We're obviously not the first generation to have experienced empty nesting, a concept reportedly coined in 1914 and popularized in the 1970s, but we may be the first generation to have openly talked about it. Former first lady Michelle Obama recently discussed how she was using therapy to transition to a new phase of life after having 'launched' her daughters. Celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay admitted that he was so sad when his son went off to university that he went into his son's bedroom and put on a pair of his underwear. Ramsay's heartfelt honesty also shatters a myth about empty nesting that it's only moms who are emotional when the children leave. The British author Celia Dodd, who recently updated her 2011 book, 'The Empty Nest: How to Survive and Stay Close to Your Adult Child,' told me that dads often seem to be coping fine with the transition but might be struggling the most. 'I thought my husband was just being a heartless bastard,' she recalled of the time her eldest son left home. 'He was going, 'It's great, they'll have a great time.' Whereas in fact he was feeling just as sad as I did. I think a lot of men feel there's not space for them to talk about how they feel, because they're supporting their partner and they're supporting the kids.' An understanding of how fathers might be affected in no way minimizes the attachment between mothers and their children, a bond that is (mostly) formed in the womb. Other parents have told me to expect a multitude of emotions, but surely the most immediate will be the sense of loss in the weeks after departure. 'When empty nesters talk about the teenagers,' the comedian Jim Gaffigan quipped, 'they always sound like they're describing a hurricane: 'My wife and I thought we were prepared; we lost everything!'' Madonna wasn't quite so dramatic when she talked about her daughter Lourdes leaving, but she still compared it to losing an arm. Once you've come to terms with that, there is often an identity crisis to navigate. As Dodd wrote in 'The Empty Nest,' 'To me, it was glaringly obvious that parting from a child who has been the centre of your life for twenty-odd years is a really big deal. Yet while new parents are bombarded with advice, empty nest parents are left to muddle through what is arguably the most challenging phase of parenting.' She added, 'It is the flipside of the seismic emotional adjustment that new parents go through with the birth of their first baby. A return to life without children — while still being a parent — requires another massive readjustment of self and your place in the world.' Since my parents' generation, there has been a revolution in family life. Dodd has observed that many modern-day parents are closer to their kids than they once were to their own parents. They're more involved in their lives, and some even want to be friends with them. I'm immensely proud of my sons, and I'm excited for their future, and as hard as it will be to let go, I recognize that it's crucial for all of us to shift the dynamic in our family relationship. They know that we're always here if they need us, but we don't intend to check in every day to see how they're doing. Perhaps the greatest concern is the increasing divorce rate among empty nesters. On a recent trip home to London, some friends of mine ran through the list of our peers who had recently been separated. It was anecdotal, but the handful of cases seemed alarmingly high. Why can even seemingly rock-solid couples run into problems when it's just the two of them at home? 'It's hard to imagine what life will be like when there's just the two of you, and it's natural to wonder what on earth you'll find to talk about,' Dodd wrote. 'One mother sums it up: 'Suddenly you're on your own and you look at each other and realise you haven't paid much attention to each other for years.' I want my kids to succeed and find their independence; the ultimate parental dream is to see our children soar. Equally, mine seem to recognize the void their departure will create — our sons have asked more than once if we'll be OK when they're gone. Such a level of emotional maturity signals to me that they'll be just fine on their own. Having thought about this impending transition for many years, I no longer fear it; in fact, I'm learning to embrace it. Planning and preparation are important, as is the mindset — we shouldn't be 'filling a hole' but finding a purpose. Intentional date nights are already back on the calendar, and my wife is excited to devote her full time to her art career. My creative space is the yard and garden, so finally the plants will have my full care and attention, and I'm one step closer to keeping the beehives I've been dreaming about. For the coming months, we've bought tickets to ghost tours and shows and even a gig in Canada, which seems very rock 'n' roll. The oft-quoted translation that the Chinese symbol for crisis means both danger and opportunity may not be totally accurate, but I choose to believe it at this stage of my life. It's not just our children who are gaining their independence; we're going to rediscover it, too. Get inspired by a weekly roundup on living well, made simple. Sign up for CNN's Life, But Better newsletter for information and tools designed to improve your well-being.
CNN
2 days ago
- General
- CNN
Now that my kids are off to college, what's this empty nester dad to do?
This month, our twin boys — our only children — will fly the coop and head off to university. For the first time in 19 years, just two of us and our 12-pound Maltese Shih Tzu will be rattling around inside our family home. The laughter and music that have echoed off the walls will be gone, and my wife and I will enter a new, uncertain phase of life. We will become empty nesters. Admittedly, this is a rather stark interpretation of what empty nesting is going to be, but we hope we're well-prepared. We've been discussing our dreams for the future, exploring the restaurants that we never quite had time to frequent, and the pickleball paddles have been ordered. Still, it's been hard to ignore the daunting finality that has been creeping up on us for years. Empty nesting is a phrase that seems to be laden with heartache and trepidation. With high school graduation approaching last May, we could feel an emotional knife twisting as our social media feeds filled with nostalgic images of the first day of kindergarten alongside the last day of 12th grade. We started becoming hyperaware of the imminent transition, my wife even describing a dagger of pain in the grocery store when she bought a packet of brown paper lunch bags for the last time. It really does feel like only yesterday that our boys arrived together, their births announced to the world on air by my CNN International colleagues. Since then, we have anxiously wondered if the boys will be ready when it's time for them to take off on their own. But then I began wondering if the question should instead be, 'Are we ready?' Are we prepared for the transition back from 'parents' to 'couple'? I often think of an old friend in London who raised five children over about 25 years. When the last one left, she said she turned to her husband and, for the first time in a quarter of a century, asked, 'So, how are you?' We're obviously not the first generation to have experienced empty nesting, a concept reportedly coined in 1914 and popularized in the 1970s, but we may be the first generation to have openly talked about it. Former first lady Michelle Obama recently discussed how she was using therapy to transition to a new phase of life after having 'launched' her daughters. Celebrity chef Gordon Ramsay admitted that he was so sad when his son went off to university that he went into his son's bedroom and put on a pair of his underwear. Ramsay's heartfelt honesty also shatters a myth about empty nesting that it's only moms who are emotional when the children leave. The British author Celia Dodd, who recently updated her 2011 book, 'The Empty Nest: How to Survive and Stay Close to Your Adult Child,' told me that dads often seem to be coping fine with the transition but might be struggling the most. 'I thought my husband was just being a heartless bastard,' she recalled of the time her eldest son left home. 'He was going, 'It's great, they'll have a great time.' Whereas in fact he was feeling just as sad as I did. I think a lot of men feel there's not space for them to talk about how they feel, because they're supporting their partner and they're supporting the kids.' An understanding of how fathers might be affected in no way minimizes the attachment between mothers and their children, a bond that is (mostly) formed in the womb. Other parents have told me to expect a multitude of emotions, but surely the most immediate will be the sense of loss in the weeks after departure. 'When empty nesters talk about the teenagers,' the comedian Jim Gaffigan quipped, 'they always sound like they're describing a hurricane: 'My wife and I thought we were prepared; we lost everything!'' Madonna wasn't quite so dramatic when she talked about her daughter Lourdes leaving, but she still compared it to losing an arm. Once you've come to terms with that, there is often an identity crisis to navigate. As Dodd wrote in 'The Empty Nest,' 'To me, it was glaringly obvious that parting from a child who has been the centre of your life for twenty-odd years is a really big deal. Yet while new parents are bombarded with advice, empty nest parents are left to muddle through what is arguably the most challenging phase of parenting.' She added, 'It is the flipside of the seismic emotional adjustment that new parents go through with the birth of their first baby. A return to life without children — while still being a parent — requires another massive readjustment of self and your place in the world.' Since my parents' generation, there has been a revolution in family life. Dodd has observed that many modern-day parents are closer to their kids than they once were to their own parents. They're more involved in their lives, and some even want to be friends with them. I'm immensely proud of my sons, and I'm excited for their future, and as hard as it will be to let go, I recognize that it's crucial for all of us to shift the dynamic in our family relationship. They know that we're always here if they need us, but we don't intend to check in every day to see how they're doing. Perhaps the greatest concern is the increasing divorce rate among empty nesters. On a recent trip home to London, some friends of mine ran through the list of our peers who had recently been separated. It was anecdotal, but the handful of cases seemed alarmingly high. Why can even seemingly rock-solid couples run into problems when it's just the two of them at home? 'It's hard to imagine what life will be like when there's just the two of you, and it's natural to wonder what on earth you'll find to talk about,' Dodd wrote. 'One mother sums it up: 'Suddenly you're on your own and you look at each other and realise you haven't paid much attention to each other for years.' I want my kids to succeed and find their independence; the ultimate parental dream is to see our children soar. Equally, mine seem to recognize the void their departure will create — our sons have asked more than once if we'll be OK when they're gone. Such a level of emotional maturity signals to me that they'll be just fine on their own. Having thought about this impending transition for many years, I no longer fear it; in fact, I'm learning to embrace it. Planning and preparation are important, as is the mindset — we shouldn't be 'filling a hole' but finding a purpose. Intentional date nights are already back on the calendar, and my wife is excited to devote her full time to her art career. My creative space is the yard and garden, so finally the plants will have my full care and attention, and I'm one step closer to keeping the beehives I've been dreaming about. For the coming months, we've bought tickets to ghost tours and shows and even a gig in Canada, which seems very rock 'n' roll. The oft-quoted translation that the Chinese symbol for crisis means both danger and opportunity may not be totally accurate, but I choose to believe it at this stage of my life. It's not just our children who are gaining their independence; we're going to rediscover it, too. Get inspired by a weekly roundup on living well, made simple. Sign up for CNN's Life, But Better newsletter for information and tools designed to improve your well-being.
