09/09/2026
Who Are You, Actually?
I keep thinking about something a client said to me. Her youngest just left for college, and she said, "I looked at my husband across the table last night and thought... who are you, actually? Not 'Dad.' Just... you."
She wasn't complaining. She was scared. And a little curious.
For twenty-some years, her marriage ran on logistics. Whose turn to drive to practice. Who's picking up the prescription. Who's staying up because someone has a fever. She and her husband were partners in the truest sense, running a whole operation together, and love was mostly something that happened in the cracks between tasks. A hand on the shoulder while doing dishes. An inside joke about the school pickup line.
Now the operation is over. And what's left in the space where it used to be?
Honestly, that's the part nobody warns you about. Not the empty bedrooms, everyone talks about that. It's the empty evenings. The dinners where neither of you has anything urgent to report. The quiet that isn't peaceful, it's just quiet, and you're not totally sure what to do with it, or with each other.
Gibran wrote that we should "let there be spaces in your togetherness." I used to think that meant carving out time apart on purpose. Now I wonder if it also means this: the space that shows up whether you asked for it or not, once the kids are gone and the roles fall away.
I don't think there's a clean answer for what to do with it. I wish I could tell you three steps and you'll feel close again. I can't. What I do believe is what Anne Morrow Lindbergh wrote, that relationships aren't meant to hold one shape forever, that the ones that last are the ones willing to keep reshaping themselves as the people in them change.
So maybe the awkwardness is the whole point. Maybe it's supposed to feel a little unfamiliar before it feels like anything real again.
Rumi has a line I keep coming back to: "Don't grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form." I think that's true here too. The marriage that was built for raising children isn't gone because it's over. It's just not needed anymore. Something else gets to take its place, if you're both willing to stumble around in the dark a little before either of you figures out what it looks like.
If you're in this right now, if the house is quiet and so is the marriage, and you're not sure if that's a problem or just a season, I don't think you're failing at anything.
I think you're just at the beginning of a part nobody wrote a manual for.❤️🦋