For the past 23 years, my wife and I have lived with a singular, all-consuming purpose — raising our three children. Like many parents, we navigated through the sleepless nights of infancy, the boundless curiosity of childhood, the unpredictable waves of adolescence, and the exhilarating (and at times nerve-wracking) launch into adulthood. Every step was filled with joy, challenge, growth, and the profound privilege of guiding our kids toward independence.
Now, at ages 23, 21, and 19, they stand at the threshold of their own journeys. And here we stand — proud, grateful, and stepping into a new phase ourselves. The transition from hands-on parenting to (almost) empty nesting is one that often comes with mixed emotions. Society tends to paint this season in extremes: either as an aching void or an overdue liberation. But what if it could be both? Or better yet, what if it could be something else entirely — something equally beautiful, just different?
The Power of “Let Them”
Recently, I came across The Let Them Theory by Mel Robbins, and it resonated deeply. Her perspective is simple yet profound — let them. Instead of trying to control, fix, or influence everything, just let them. Let people do what they’re going to do, and in turn, free yourself from unnecessary frustration and disappointment.
Applying this to parenting, the message becomes clear:
• Let them explore, make mistakes, change paths, fall in love, fail, succeed, struggle, and redefine who they are. Let them create their own version of success and happiness. Let them find their own way, just as we once did.
• Let me evolve. Let me rediscover who I am beyond being a provider and protector. Let me embrace passions I put on hold, build deeper friendships, and redefine my own purpose outside of parenthood.
• Let us grow together. Let us reconnect — not just as parents but as partners. Let us dream new dreams, set new goals, and embrace the adventure that awaits us in this next chapter.
For years, our lives revolved around schedules, practices, school drop-offs, and dinner table debates. Now, the silence of an empty house is both unfamiliar and full of potential. The love we poured into our children does not end — it transforms. It runs parallel to our own journey, proving that we can hold space for their growth while honoring our own.
The Beauty of Parallel Journeys
One of the greatest gifts of this phase is realizing that our children’s independence does not mean our irrelevance. It means we’ve done our job. Our support doesn’t disappear; it shifts. We become sounding boards instead of decision-makers, cheerleaders instead of managers. And in doing so, we make room for them to come back — not because they need us, but because they want to.
At the same time, we get to expand our own horizons. We get to travel without checking a school calendar. We get to have uninterrupted conversations, pick up old hobbies, and start new traditions. The joy of parenting doesn’t end; it simply runs parallel to the joy of rediscovering ourselves.
A Grateful Dad and Husband’s Perspective
If there’s one thing I’ve learned through this transition, it’s that gratitude is the key to embracing change. I am grateful for every moment of raising my kids — the hard ones, the beautiful ones, and the ones that passed too quickly. I am grateful for the foundation we’ve built as a family. And above all, I am grateful for my wife, my partner in all of it — the person who stood beside me through every late-night worry, every proud moment, and every shift in our journey.
So to the fellow parents facing this shift, I say: Let them. Let me. Let us. This next chapter is not about loss — it’s about expansion. And if we embrace it with the same love and intentionality that we brought to parenting, we may just find that the best is still to come.
Be well.
Derieontay