Life Always Throws Curves

In the continuing saga of our family, we left off in the summer of 2025 with Seth packing up and heading to Florida.

Fast forward to the summer of 2026, and he’s not just settled—he’s building something.

Seth is living in a house with his girlfriend and two roommates, teaching his martial arts program at multiple facilities, running private sessions, and working to grow a client base with the long-term goal of opening his own dojo. He also trained hard to become a member of a mobile self-defense training team teaching the S.P.E.A.R system, something rooted in what he grew up doing—and is now the youngest member of that team. That means some travel, coaching at seminars, and getting paid to do what he loves, teaching and making people safer.

Not a bad deal. I’m still trying to figure out how I missed that career path.

Back home, the boys still had the house they bought together a few years ago. Josh was living there, but at some point, it became obvious—it’s a lot of house for one person. And although the original plan was either for Josh to get a roommate when Seth moved, or to rent the house outright, they ultimately came to the reality that neither of them had any interest in becoming landlords.

I’ve been a landlord; it was probably a wise call on their part.

So, they sold it.

Almost five years after that purchase, it turned out to be a solid investment. Not exactly HGTV-level drama—no walls knocked down or surprise shiplap—but there was the incident where the kitchen floor grew a five foot long, half a foot high speed bump right in the middle of the room. . .and I’m not kidding!

Meanwhile, Josh was still teaching at the Martial Arts school where they grew up but was also building something entirely different.

He’d traveled to Brazil multiple times, became friends with some of the local Brazilian population, talked to people who spoke Portuguese and wanted to learn English, which for him turned into fluency in Portuguese. Fluency turned into teaching. Teaching turned into a business. He now runs his own LLC, teaches English to mostly Brazilians, and has built a solid following online (TikTok: @coachjoshingles, Instagram: @coachjoshmma).

Somewhere along the way, he basically created a job that didn’t exist for him before—which is both impressive… and mildly confusing to those of us who still think in terms of “apply, interview, hope for the best.”

Then came the conversation that every parent both expects… and somehow is never ready for.

Josh told us that once the house sold, he was moving to Brazil.

Not visiting. Not “for a little while.”

Moving.

And yes… he actually did it.

From his perspective, it makes perfect sense. His money goes further; he’s immersed in the language and culture. He can grow his teaching business while chasing something bigger, an experience, an adventure.

And truthfully, I think he’s going to find it.

When he first told us, I told him that I couldn’t really get on board with him moving abroad, but I knew I wouldn’t stop him either. And to be fair, I was a little jealous! I would never have thought of doing something like that at 28 years old. For a kid from New Jersey that was homeschooled, this was huge leap…and thoroughly impressive!

But for my wife and me… this is where the story takes a turn.

We’ve been “just us” before—but that was a long time ago. Different careers. Different energy. Back when “quiet time” sounded appealing instead of slightly suspicious. At one time we were DINKS (Dual Income No Kids) and loved it.

Now we find ourselves back in a familiar, yet unfamiliar spot once again. This time, we’re parents with no kids nearby. One is over 1,000 miles away. The other is more than 5,000 miles away—in another country.

That’s… different.

As parents, you spend years preparing your kids to go out and live their lives. Be independent. Take chances. Build something of their own.

And then one day… they actually listen to you.

And you’re like,“Wait… maybe not that independent.”

You’re proud—more than you can really explain.

And at the same time, there’s this quiet voice in the back of your head saying,“Could we maybe aim for ‘thriving’ within a 30-mile radius?”

Somewhere along the way, you convinced yourself they’d do all of that… while still being close to home. That you’ll have Sunday dinners, quick visits, and regular time together.

Turns out, life had other plans. One of my friends always tells me, “We plan, God laughs”. (Thanks Vee!)

We’re incredibly proud of both of them. That part is easy.

The harder part is adjusting to a house that suddenly feels very… quiet.

No more Sunday dinners with Josh. No “just stopping by.” Even the little things hit—I won’t even have the dog here anymore (see my three-part blog post) sitting next to me during football season like he owns the couch.

Which, to be fair, he did. I was basically a guest in his family room.

This transition hasn’t been an easy one.

Even when they first moved out and were still nearby, I missed them. Now, with this level of distance, it’s something else entirely. We video chat, text, and send each other clips almost daily—but it’s not the same.

It’s good.

It’s just not the same.

We did get one more stretch of time together at the end of April. The three of us flew down to Orlando to see Seth. His girlfriend works at “the mouse house,” so we were able to take advantage of a few perks—which, I’ll admit, we absolutely leaned into.

No shame.

Ironically, the trip lined up almost exactly with the 13-year anniversary of our last family trip to Disney. This time it seemed like there was a lot more walking . . .for me at least. With Michelle’s back issues, she got wheeled around the park, but even that for her is a big deal and she was a trooper! The boys also somehow convinced me to go on the roller coasters with them...which, if you know me, I never do. I must admit though, they were a LOT of fun!

For a few days, it felt like we pressed pause on everything. The four of us were together again laughing, eating, walking through parks, just enjoying being a family.

And then… reality kicked back in.

When we left for the airport that Tuesday, we weren’t just heading home—we were also saying goodbye to Josh, who was leaving for Brazil later that same evening.

We had one last lunch together.

Just the four of us.

Driving away from that parking lot was tough. Not knowing when we’ll see him again in person makes it tougher. Sure, we’ll stay connected—but there’s no substitute for being in the same place, at the same time. 

There just isn’t.

We felt. . . empty.

Now we’re all settling into new versions of life.

The kids have their own places, their own businesses, their own paths unfolding.

And us?

We’re figuring out what this next chapter looks like.

I’m still working remotely and don’t plan on retiring anytime soon—which, depending on the day, is either a blessing or a reminder that I still have a boss. (although I actually love my job and my boss is frickin awesome!)

I’m continuing to build Boomers & Beyond Computer Concierge at my own pace. But as long as the remote job is there, I’m good for now.

We’ve talked about possibly splitting time between our Margate condo and somewhere in Florida—without actually buying anything down there. At this point, we’re in the “talking about it like it’s a solid plan” phase but are keeping our options open.

Not everything has gone the way we hoped. Michelle’s back surgery didn’t bring the results we were looking for, but she’s doing everything she can to stay strong and keep moving forward.

And really, that’s what this stage is about—for both of us.

For the first time in a very long time, the focus shifts back to us.

Our health. Our relationship. Our future.

We still plan around the kids—visits, trips, chats, meeting up wherever we can—but the day-to-day has changed.

We love them. We miss them. We still worry about them as if they’re not grown ass men with lives and businesses of their own. That will never go away.

Some days are easier than others.

Some days… not so much.

But this is life. It keeps moving, whether you’re ready or not.

And if there’s one thing we’ve learned, it’s this:

You don’t get to choose when things change. You only get to choose how you move forward.

So here we are.

It’s quieter. It’s different.

But we’re still standing.

And it’s probably a good thing…

because we still like each other.

Most of the time.