The first thing I noticed was the silence. Waking up in our new home, we found it so quiet in the mornings.
Whereas a few weeks ago, I’d hear my dad shuffling around upstairs making his early-morning tea, or my mom listening to Reels, our house was suddenly deathly quiet before the kids opened their eyes.
August marked five months since we began living with my folks in my childhood home. They’d kindly offered my family of five the bottom level of their two-story house after we relocated from country Victoria in Australia to the Gold Coast, where I grew up.
The multi-generational living arrangement worked really well and was a success overall. But when my dad was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease in June, we decided it was time for us to move on. In August, we moved into our own home, about 10 minutes’ drive from my parents.
Since our multigenerational living experience has come to an end, the feelings that have bubbled to the surface have been interesting. Happiness, sadness, guilt, and relief all at once.
I know that we couldn’t continue living with my parents forever. They’re 77 and 81. They need their own space and vice versa. But the feeling is generally bittersweet.
We’ve gained a lot since moving out
In our new home, we can all totter around in our undies, without having to worry about feeling awkward. If my husband and I have a blow-up, there’s nobody within earshot, and I think that we are getting on better in general now that we have our own space.
Our three kids also have their own rooms, which they are really enjoying (they were all piled into one bedroom at my folks’ place). We no longer have to worry about the children being disruptive or navigate challenges like illnesses, different routines, or keeping shared spaces clean and tidy all the time.
Having privacy again is a simple pleasure I really missed.
But there are also a few things we’ve lost
While I love solitude and am generally introverted, I find myself missing certain aspects of multi-generational living. My morning cups of tea with my dad, for example, when we’d sit on his veranda and chat in the sunshine, or not talk at all.
I also miss the lunchtime discussions with Mom. Even if it was for 15 minutes lying on her bed and having a laugh about something silly.
Though we try to drop in and visit Mom and Dad regularly, we don’t necessarily see them every day. I’m hoping that in the long run, we’ll have quality time together, rather than quantity.
My folks are having mixed feelings, too
I know without a doubt that my folks adore our kids, but I do think they were finding it a bit much toward the end of our living arrangement. They, too, are relieved, but sad it’s over.
At one point, before we moved out, Mom mentioned she was looking forward to having her house back, then felt guilty about her comments and tried to backtrack. The very next day, she was begging us to stay an extra week.
I think for Mom, who struggled with empty-nest syndrome when my siblings and I moved out, this whole situation has been a bit like empty-nest 2.0. Their house has gone from being a hive of activity, with grandchildren doing cartwheels in the living room and having laughing fits after dinner, to eerily quiet.
It’s an adjustment we’re navigating together
Living with my parents again after so many years apart was a gift, even if there were challenges. I think what makes this next chapter bittersweet is that we didn’t leave because we hated each other’s company; we left because we love my folks enough not to want to be a burden on them.
While we no longer share a roof, I’m hoping we can continue making memories and really enjoy the time we do spend together. I’m making a concerted effort to invite my folks over for weekly dinners, and we may even start a monthly family games night.
My mom and dad were my first home, and they will always be welcome in ours.
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