31/08/2026
So, this week, all over the country, parents are folding hoodies into IKEA bags and calling it “getting organised” whilst trying to hold back the feelings of sadness and abandonment alongside the joy and excitement for the future for their kids.
You’re trying to pack up eighteen years of them, the mug they always used, the duvet cover you bought when they had outgrown the dinosaur one, the 101 cosmetics in the cupboard.. and then you’re standing in a bedroom that’s about to become ‘the spare room’ instead of ‘their room’ and you’re crying over a saucepan set in the middle of Dunelm, and it’s all so natural and normal.
This is grief, because grief isn’t only about death; it’s about all the losses and changes that we have to go through in our lives, and we go through so much loss in life.
No one has died, but everything is about to change...because that person who yells “what’s for tea?” through the ceiling and fights for the bathroom, also creates a feeling of comfort just by being in the house.
So you feel guilty: ‘I should just be proud, as other parents would love this problem, they’re only an hour away’ it’s like the same toxic “at least” logic that we are supposed to be ok with in grief that never really works for us.
You are proud, and you are also heartbroken; the duality of grief and pride living inside you.
So if you’re teary in the stationery aisle this week: you’re not being dramatic and you’re not “empty nesting wrong” you are just a parent whose love is having to adjust, and life is changing and that’s ok.
Are you packing this week? Tell me the object that’s really set you off?
