Midlife Meditation

It's a museum of medieval art, most of it religious, in a building cobbled together from pieces of ancient European monasteries. And it's located in Manhattan. I've heard of The Cloisters before, but never understood what people were talking about. When they tried describing the place, I was skeptical: during my two years in Europe, I visited many authentically ancient churches, and church architecture remains one of my interests, even as I have left clergy life behind. When one has been to cathedrals in York, Dublin, Munich, and Rome, to name just a few I visited, even the oldest American churches feel juvenile. But The Cloisters did not disappoint. The organizers of this collection of pieces wisely chose specificity over broadness. Tapestries, altar pieces, reliquaries, stained glass, chalices, patens, tombs, prayer books: everything on display came from 12th to 15th century churches. In the paintings and sculptures, one can see European knowledge of the human form...

Just like that, my two weeks are up. Sean is mostly self-contained. There are logistical things he needs me to do: drive him to the AT&T Store to activate his new iPhone, book his travel, pay for most of his meals while he's with me. Apart from that, he entertains himself most of the time, which was especially important last week, as I worked 10-12 hour days. When I did have time with him, it was mostly spent in passive activities, watching TV or movies. We played cards with Amy and Sarah, and once we were in New Jersey, with Amy's mother, Helene. But by and large, Sean entertained himself, reading, Facebooking, and playing video games. And then, this morning, we dropped him at LaGuardia, and he flew away. I've been playing this empty nesting game for nineteen years, and always, no matter how long I've been with my kids, no matter how stressful it's been, how hard they've been working at making me look forward to their departure, once they leave, I a...

A week ago last night, my heart broke open. Some context: since 2005, it takes many gallons of fuel and hours of travel for me to see either of my children. For the first few years after they were moved to Idaho Falls, I saw them fairly regularly, a few days at a time, about once a month. Then my daughter Sarah graduated from high school, and started having work commitments. I still saw Sean fairly often, and for extended periods at school vacations, but that, too, had to change, as he entered the work world last year. This means that, prior to last Friday, I hadn't seen him or Sarah since last August, when Amy and I drove 700 miles for a few hours with each of them. This is the reality of my empty nest--and really, of all empty nests. Every parent has to, at some point, adjust to the departure of children as they set out to make their own way in the world. Granted, in recent years the length of their time living at home has, overall, been extended by our cruel economy...

  This is how big they were when I had to start living without them.   My nest began emptying prematurely when my children were 5 and 2. It was January, 1995, and I was moving into my first post-marital bachelor house. Prior to this development, the longest I had been away from my children was a one-week trip to a wedding and conference in 1993. Apart from that (and some occasional overnight retreats), I was home every night to give them baths, read them stories, and kiss them goodnight. Now I was without them for seven or more days at a time, and I was not taking it well.   To be fair, there was a lot about the situation that I was not taking well, and there were times when I was glad the children weren't around to see what I was going through. I experienced intense physical symptoms of withdrawal for at least the first two months of the divorce, and even four months into it, I was still having occasional attacks of sobbing that could last for twenty minutes...