It's Our First Holiday As Empty Nesters, And This Suggestion From My Husband Had Me Spiraling
After spending 22 years of Hanukkah and Christmas with our family, my daughter has now flown the nest. A college grad, she’s living on her own, and her holiday and New Year’s plans this year don’t include her parents.
I think it hit me the hardest when store shelves were suddenly stocked with ornaments and holiday décor, literally the day after Halloween. Ads for holiday cards started popping up in my email, filled with portraits of happy families wearing matching pajamas and ugly Christmas sweaters. My husband suggested we take a photo of our dog in a pair of antlers and call it a day.
It was a lot to process. Gone are the years of hiding Elf on a Shelf, wrapping presents and spinning the dreidel for chocolate gelt. My daughter won’t be going to her aunt and uncle’s for Christmas Eve, sipping cocoa around a fireplace with her cousins, or watching “Rudolph” and “The Grinch” with me. No more Radio City Spectacular or Nutcracker matinees — she’s way too mature for that. She is eager to start new traditions with her boyfriend and her pals, and I can’t hold that against her. But I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt. She won’t be home for the holidays, and I need to accept the fact that I am no longer raising a child. Instead, I am getting to know my little girl as a grown-up, navigating our ever-shifting relationship, and trying to stress love of family without stepping on her toes.
My friends commiserate — many of their adult kids are either partying with friends, celebrating with significant others, or booking flights to tropical locales where sipping piña coladas trumps being with “the parentals.” I understand it; I was the same at that age and had a solid seven days off from my first job. I spent the holidays at a Club Med with college roommates and didn’t consider once how it might make my mom and dad feel.
Experts say this new stage of a parent’s life can be tricky — and even traumatic. “As parents, we pour so much of ourselves into raising our children,” says author and therapist Jillian Amodio. “Sometimes it can be hard to remember that our ultimate goal isn’t for them to stay with us forever, but rather to give them the tools, confidence, and values they need to build lives of their own. Watching them venture into adulthood, we may feel a sense of loss, especially if our own identities have become deeply intertwined with their presence. But it’s also an incredible opportunity to witness the unique individuals they’re becoming.”
Amodio reminds parents that love doesn’t diminish with distance or change. “It deepens with acceptance and respect. Letting go of control doesn’t mean letting go of connection. Honoring autonomy creates a bond rooted in mutual understanding — one that leaves room for growth, trust, and the enduring strength of family.”
Watching them venture into adulthood, we may feel a sense of loss, especially if our own identities have become deeply intertwined with their presence. But it’s also an incredible opportunity to witness the unique individuals they’re becoming.”Jillian Amodio
Long Island mom Nicole Weinfeld has one daughter in Los Angeles, one in Philadelphia, and yet another in upstate New York. “We do the best we can with all the kids scattered to the wind,” she says. “We make it work. At Hanukkah, we send them each gifts and order them dinner wherever they are, and we all get on FaceTime to light menorah candles. We pick one holiday — this year it’s Thanksgiving — where we can all physically be together in one place. As for the rest of the holidays, we do it virtually. Welcome to the modern world.”
When gathering for holidays is possible, clinical psychologist Maya Weir stresses accepting any new additions to the family table. “The most important thing is to create a welcoming environment,” she says. “This means making it comfortable — enough beds and space — when they visit. Make great food and welcome their friends or partners. The key here is that you want your adult children to want to come home and not feel forced to out of obligation.”
Translation: no guilt-tripping, tempting as that may be. My husband tries his best to pile it on: “Don’t you want to spend time with your grandma and grandpa? They’re 86 and 90 — they’re not getting any younger!”
This kind of tactic, according to experts, will only make the holidays feel like a chore for your adult child. You want to instead encourage a genuine connection and invite — not order — them to come home. Likewise, be understanding and accepting if they need to pass.
“The way you thought it would always be needs to be flexible now,” added Chicago-based therapist Lynn Zakeri. “That was your story, and now your story is bigger than just you.” She advises considering your goal for the holidays: “Is it a particular day and time? Is it a particular tradition? Does it include particular people? What can be compromised on and what is your big ask? The more you are open to different options, the less you will feel resentful and let down.”
If adult kids simply can’t commit, postpone family plans to another time. “Consider low-pressure meetups that suit their adult schedules,” suggests psychologist Caitlin Slavens. “Coffee dates, sporting events, or weekends spent enjoying an activity create shared experiences without pressure, allowing both sides to connect in ways that feel natural.”
For me, finding a solution that keeps us all happy requires compromise. My daughter will fly to Florida to be with us the week prior to Hanukkah and Christmas. She can get back to NYC in time to ring in the new year her way, and we will celebrate a few days early. Our plans may be a little untraditional: We’ll do some great shopping in the mall, watch dad play pickleball and catch the new “Wicked” movie together. Instead of eating latkes this year, we will likely go out for sushi — and that’s okay. As long as we’re together, the holidays will remain a festive and fun time for our family.
I realize the greatest gift I can give her this year is the freedom to forge a wonderful life of her own. And her presence — no matter what day in December it lands on — is my best present.
