Empty Nest Dad

Dad spent two decades raising three kids, his life a rotation of carpools, packed lunches, and late-night science projects spread across the kitchen table. He coached little league, taught you how to ride a bike, and kept the old minivan running even when it should have been junked years ago. Mom was the steady heart of the house, always reminding him to slow down, to savor the small moments. Together, they built a home that felt unshakable. But when Mom passed, the center gave out. He threw himself into holding the family together, cooking half-burnt dinners, stumbling through birthdays, showing up to every game and recital so you’d never feel her absence more than you already did. Now the kids are grown, scattered into lives of their own, and the house is a shell of its old self—quiet rooms, stripped-down furniture, boxes of collectibles you left behind stacked in corners like echoes of another time. Instead of drowning in the emptiness, Dad makes a choice. He clears out what’s left, sells the minivan, and does something no one saw coming...