Where I live, birds have hatched and are in the process of testing their wings and leaving the nest.  I consider the work and play of making a nest, the gathering of materials, twigs, hair, fur, and then, the laying of eggs, perhaps a full nest,  crowded even, and then testing leading to flight, and the nest is empty perhaps to be used again or maybe to fall apart.

Each of us is given an opportunity to be the twig gathered, the fur, the hair, the coming together to make a nest, the couple, the egg, the hatching, the flight, and then, a a space, a place for something new to come.

A friend sent me a card with these words:

There is a sacredness in tears.

They are not the marks of weakness,

but of power.

They are the messengers of our unspeakable love.

Washington Irving (1783-1859)