That empty feeling ~ August 30, 2001

David Heiller

The empty feeling settled over me on Monday morning, August 27. I had been waiting for it to come, and when it hadn’t, I felt a bit puzzled and relieved. Bad feelings have a way of sneaking up on people.

Malika on her first day of 
kindergarten at Willow River.

I was lying in bed, trying to pry myself awake, when it finally hit, and I remembered that Mollie wasn’t upstairs. She wasn’t upstairs this morning, and she wouldn’t be upstairs tomorrow morning or the next.

We had taken her to Golden Valley the day before, in a car packed with boxes and bins, to her new home, a high school dormitory.

We were excited to see her room, to help her unpack, to meet her roommate, to look at the other kids filtering in. They all seemed to be equally excited and scared. I still remember those feelings from 30 years ago when I went away to college.

The parents looked the same way. Trying hard to be happy. Telling themselves, This is the right thing to do. We've thought this through. She’s ready for this. It will be good for her. And wondering if it was true.

Mollie heard about the Perpich Center for Arts Education last year. It is a high school that specializes in six areas: music, dance, literary arts, visual arts, media arts, theater. She wrote away for details. We went to an informational meeting with her. She met some teachers and students. She liked what she saw. We liked it too, but mostly because she did. The drive had to come from within her. She applied, did a vocal audition, and got accepted as a music student.

Malika on stage at the Perpich
Center For the Arts High School.

So I had a long time to prepare for that empty feeling. Sixteen years, to be exact. And I still wasn’t ready! The funny thing is, if you are ready for that, then your heart is a bit too hard.

The empty feeling will pass. I’ll adjust to it. Rational thought will rush in to fill the void. Cindy and I will watch Mollie grow and floun­der and flourish. Pick your adjective; she will probably experience it.

We’ll see her take many more steps like this. We have been watching those steps —and helping her when she stumbles—since 1985. At least I hope we get to see them.

Journeys come in all shapes and sizes. First day of school. First overnight. First trip to camp. First date. This is just another one, like it is for Mom and Dad.

So let me soak up the silence. That will help me get through it. No calling the dog to her room when she wakes up. No bickering with her brother. No marathon gab sessions with her girlfriends. No chatter about the movie she saw or about the boy she likes. No tears over mean words spoken at school. No bike rides down the gravel road. No quiet visits on the bench by the garden. No singing.

Dutch Jones told me a long time ago to enjoy my kids while I could, because they grow up too fast. I still remember that advice. I tried to keep it in mind. It still doesn't stop time from marching on. And we don’t want it to do that, because when you live in the past, you stop living.

The empty feeling will gradually fade away. I can feel it happening already. Then I’ll wait until the next one arrives, as it most certainly will.