I’m 52, and the youngest just left for university in Edinburgh, and yeah, I'm finding myself standing in the middle of a suddenly quiet house, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to *do* now. We’re told, as parents, that this is the goal, right? To raise independent adults who fly the nest, and the feeling is supposed to be one of pride, of accomplishment, but honestly... I just feel like a discarded husk. Like a caterpillar after the butterfly has gone — the chrysalis just… hangs there, empty and useless. What a punchline.