Article by Karen Burge
All over the world there are mothers sitting on the edge of their child’s bed crying. Perhaps holding a dirty T-shirt and breathing in the smell of the absent teenager. Yes, it’s that time of year when those irritating, noisy, smelly, stroppy youngsters finally leave home, yet instead of celebrating, their parents are struck down by grief.
It’s grief for a passing stage in their lives, for a job done, for the shedding of parental responsibility. The house is silent now. There are no shrieks of laughter, no pounding music, no footsteps on the stairs and the slamming of doors.
In contrast the fridge is full. No-one has finished the orange juice, eaten all the cheese or left the bread out. The laundry basket is almost empty, the...