Latest news with #emptyNest
CTV News
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- CTV News
A glimpse of Marge Simpson's death in a flash-forward episode still sending shockwaves through the fandom
Marge feels an overwhelming dread of the empty nest in the "A Mid-Childhood Night's Dream" episode of "The Simpsons." (FOX via CNN Newsource) If you aren't yet caught up with the latest episodes of The Simpsons, be warned: there are spoilers ahead. It's been more than a month since the death of a beloved cartoon character was foretold by the series. But fans still say they're in shock that Marge Simpson, the beloved, blue-haired matriarch, will die before her husband. The episode begins by showing that Lisa and Bart Simpson (voiced by Yeardley Smith and Nancy Cartwright) have drifted apart. In the season finale episode titled 'Estranger Things,' the oldest children of Homer and Marge (Dan Castellaneta and Julie Kavner) suggests the siblings no longer spend time together at this point in the future.' This sets in motion the events that lead to the revelation in a flash-forward sequence that Marge eventually dies before Homer. Few details are revealed about what happened, or when the show might catch up to this point. The episode reveals a future in which a now-adult Lisa is the commissioner of the WNBA. Bart, however, remains in Springfield and a widowed Homer lives in a retirement lookahead shows the late Marge spending time with Beatles musician Ringo Starr (who is still alive in real life) in heaven. 'I'm just so glad we're allowed to marry different people in heaven,' Marge says as the episode ends. Even if this reveal is accurate to the show's eventual storyline and not a dream sequence or alternate future, there is nothing to suggest that Marge won't be featured in the next season. Still, the death was emotional for fans whose mourning has continued a month after the episode aired. 'OMG THEY KILLED MARGE it's a sad day for us Simpsons lovers,' one person posted on social media. This is not the first death in the show since it first aired in 1989, but it is the first time the showrunners have shown the death of one of the main family members. The Simpsons have killed off many characters through the years, including Frank Grimes, Maude Flanders, Edna Krabappel and Larry Dalrymple ( has kept a track of them all). But you can breathe easy: Marge is not going anywhere just yet. It was announced in April that the show has been renewed for four more seasons. Kavner will likely return, since Marge's death happens later in the show's timeline. Matt Groening, the creator of the series, told Variety that The Simpsons fandom is 'as intense as ever,' despite being the longest-running animation series in North America. The death of the Marge character represents a break from how things played out in the Groening family. Matt Groening named Homer and Marge for his parents, and his mother outlived his father.
CTV News
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- CTV News
Marge Simpson isn't dead yet, so everyone can calm down
Marge feels an overwhelming dread of the empty nest in the "A Mid-Childhood Night's Dream" episode of "The Simpsons." (FOX via CNN Newsource) There was a death of a beloved character on the Season 36 finale of 'The Simpsons' last month that people are still grieving. But in the colorfully animated world of Springfield, it's probably safe to save our tears for now. In an episode titled 'Estranger Things,' the fate of matriarch Marge Simpson is foreshadowed. A flash-forward 35 years in the future shows a successful Lisa working as the commissioner of the NBA. Bart is running an unlicensed retirement home, where their father Homer lives, paid for by Lisa. The siblings have drifted apart after they stop watching 'The Itchy & Scratchy Show' together. A funeral scene reveals that Marge has passed away. The now-adult Simpson kids stand by her grave site with a tombstone that reads, 'Beloved wife, mother and pork-chop seasoner.' After Lisa finds a video from the past in which her mother advises her children to remain close to each other. Lisa and Bart reunite and their mother looks on from heaven. 'I'm so happy my kids are close again,' Marge says in her afterlife, where it is revealed that she has married her longtime crush, Beatle Ringo Starr. 'Love, we'll be late for the Heaven Buffett,' Starr tells her. 'There's a shrimp tower.' 'Okay, Ringo,' Marge tells him. 'I'm just so glad that we're allowed to marry different people in Heaven.' The internet was not happy. 'OMG THEY KILLED MARGE 😭 it's a sad day for us Simpsons lovers,' one person posted on X. The show - and Marge - aren't going anywhere anytime soon. 'The Simpsons,' the longest running animated series in television history, has been renewed for four more years. By Lisa Respers France.
Yahoo
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Johnny Depp Gets Candid About Raising Kids Lily-Rose and Jack: ‘I Loved Being Papa'
Johnny Depp is getting candid. The actor sat down with The Sunday Times for a wide-ranging interview in which he discussed raising his two kids, Lily-Rose and Jack, with ex Vanessa Paradis. After the reporter spotted a painting behind Depp, the 'Pirates of the Caribbean' star revealed it was a portrait of his daughter. 'I never finished it. She was ten then, and 25 now. Years get away from us, don't they?' the 62-year-old said before learning that the interviewer had two young children of his own. 'Oh, I envy you. I'm of the empty-nest syndrome,' Depp shared. The Academy Award nominee was then asked if he misses having his children around. 'Oh man, my kids growing up in the south of France in their youth? I was Papa. I cannot tell you how much I loved being Papa. Then, suddenly, Papa was out the window. I was Dad. But Papa was awesome and I'm getting old enough for Papa to possibly come back. Some motherf-----'s going to have to call me Papa!'
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Travel + Leisure
03-06-2025
- Business
- Travel + Leisure
My Husband and I Sold Everything at 55 Years Old and Found a Fuller Life Traveling the World for Under $3,000 a Month
When we locked the door to our family home for the last time, I didn't feel brave. I felt as though everything I'd ever known was slipping away, piece by piece. But the truth was, it was time for something different, something bigger. My hand lingered on the doorknob, the weight of what we were doing pressing on my chest. This house was where we raised our four daughters, hosted countless birthday and holiday dinners, and watched our nine grandkids run barefoot through the backyard and splash in the pool. Now, it was empty—sold, along with our cars, our furniture, and even the physical therapy business we'd spent years building. My husband, Shayne, and I exchanged a glance, almost daring the other to change their mind. Honestly, I almost did. But it was too late. We were empty nesters in our 50s, who'd spent years building a business, a home, and a life in Arizona. But at some point, it all started to feel heavy—not bad, just predictable. It was like we were living the same Tuesday on repeat. So we traded it all for two suitcases, a backpack, one-way tickets to Bali, and a dream we couldn't fully explain: to see the world slowly, intentionally, and on a limited budget. We weren't retired. We weren't trust-fund babies. We were just determined to squeeze every drop of meaning from the time we had left. But standing on that porch with the keys in my hand, I didn't feel bold. I felt terrified. The Leap Posing in front of the Eiffel Tower and at the Gembleng Waterfall in Bali, Indonesia. Shelly Peterson/Travel + Leisure The decision didn't come overnight. It began as a whisper—an idea we tossed around during vacations, long walks around our neighborhood, and while floating in the pool. But the whisper grew louder, and soon, I found myself thinking more and more about my mom, Sandy. She had always dreamed of traveling once she retired. She even mapped out trips to work on her passion for genealogy, but she passed away from cancer just eight months before that day ever came. That truth haunted me. It reminded me we were all waiting too long—for the grandkids to grow, for the business to settle, for the mythical 'right time' that never arrives with a calendar invite. So, one day, we stopped waiting. We launched Jet Set Club, a business that sends daily international flight deals to our subscribers, helping them find affordable ways to explore the world. Along with our travel blog, Jetset Petersons, we created a small income stream that allowed us to continue living our dream. We sold everything, cut our expenses to the bone, and used our savings to fund this adventure. We tracked every dollar and vowed to live with a lot less. After a while, we realized we missed having a "home base" when we returned to the U.S., and the cost of renting Airbnbs was adding up. So we bought a small condo, which we use when we're in town and rent out on Airbnb when we're not. We started in Bali, where we rented a villa with a private pool for $900 a month. We swapped Target runs for market stalls, dinner dates with $1 noodles at warungs, and errands in the car for scooter rides through the jungle to discover waterfalls. At first, it was unnerving. We didn't speak the language, we had no plan beyond the next month, and we didn't even know if we'd like it. But in the stillness, something shifted. We were living with less—and somehow feeling more. Moments That Changed Us Cruising along Vietnam's Ha Long Bay and while exploring the streets of Spain. Shelly Peterson/Travel + Leisure Travel didn't just change how we saw the world—it changed how we moved through it. In Thailand, we woke to the sound of birds, the air thick with jasmine—a simplicity that felt more profound than anything we had ever known back home. We learned to ride scooters (barely), take off our shoes before entering temples, and how to spot the best khao soi in a sea of food stalls. With just two suitcases each, we felt lighter—physically and emotionally—than we had in years. In Spain, we traveled slowly through neighborhoods instead of tourist attractions. We bought fruit at the market, ate dinner at 10 p.m., and got lost in the Gothic Quarter more times than we could count. We weren't on vacation—we were just living differently. Life felt slower. Sharper. In France, we wandered through charming neighborhoods, enjoying quiet moments in tiny cafes, savoring the simple joy of a fresh, buttery croissant. In Paris, we strolled along the Seine, taking in the beauty of the city's art, architecture, and culture while averaging mor ethan 20,000 steps a day. It was there that we truly understood the beauty of unhurried living—the way the French do it so effortlessly. Not every moment went as planned. Take the time we misread the visa requirements for Vietnam and had to make a last-minute detour to Cambodia. We landed with no hotel, no itinerary, and absolutely no clue—yet somehow, we ended up at a charming boutique inn where the staff treated us like old friends. We visited Angkor Wat three days in a row, awestruck by its beauty. It turned into one of those happy surprises that made the journey all the more unforgettable. Turns out, the best memories aren't the ones we plan. They're the ones that catch us by surprise and remind us how adaptable—and deeply human—we all are. What We Gave Up—and Gained A Peterson family beach photo. Shelly Peterson/Travel + Leisure People often ask us what the hardest part is. It's not the long flights, the unfamiliar languages, or even the money. It's missing our people. We left behind four daughters, nine grandkids, lifelong friends, and the comfort of a family and home we'd spent years building. We miss birthdays, soccer games, and dance recitals. We miss Sunday dinners, messy art projects, and bedtime giggles when babysitting the grandkids. Sometimes, the grief of that distance sneaks in quietly—over a blurry FaceTime call or an empty chair at the holiday table. But what we've gained is something precious: presence. Without the noise of a busy life, we listen better—to each other and to ourselves. Our mornings are slow and full of conversation. We've laughed more in the past two years than we did in the 10 before. We've argued less. We've marveled more. We've also redefined what 'home' means. It's not a zip code or a mortgage. Home is wherever we feel peace—whether we're savoring street food in Amsterdam, wandering rice terraces in Bali, or standing hand-in-hand at the edge of the South Pacific Sea, wondering how we ever lived so small in such a big, beautiful world. We've been married for 36 years, and through it all—raising kids, building businesses, and now traveling the world—we've learned how to support each other in ways we never imagined. Every adventure, every challenge, has only strengthened our bond, reminding us the best part of this journey is doing it together. Living With Intention at Home Coming home briefly to the U.S. a few times a year is always a reminder of how much we've changed. Where once we rushed through errands, appointments, and the usual whirlwind of daily life, we now approach these moments with more intention. We spend more time with family, relishing the conversations and moments that used to get lost in the noise. We're more thoughtful about what we purchase, what we prioritize, and how we spend our time. We've learned that the quality of time matters far more than the quantity, whether we're at a family gathering or simply enjoying a quiet afternoon at home. Our travels taught us that life is about the moments in between, and now, we bring that mindset home, making every day feel just a little more meaningful. The Life We Didn't Know We Were Waiting For Here we are, two years later. We've traveled to 14 countries, lived on less than $3,000 a month, and found a life that's less about checking boxes and more about saying 'yes' and collecting moments. This isn't just a story about travel—it's about permission. The kind you give yourself to start over at any age. To trade comfort for curiosity. To realize it's never too late—or too expensive—to choose a life that finally feels like yours. We didn't just downsize our belongings. We downsized the pressure, the pace, and the expectations that once defined us. It wasn't easy at first, but letting go of those old definitions of success made room for something more meaningful: joy, growth, and a deeper connection to each other and the world around us. What we've learned is that the life we were truly waiting for wasn't found in a place or in things—it was found in the choice to live with intention, to say "yes" to what truly matters, and to embrace the unknown together, with open arms.
Times
31-05-2025
- Health
- Times
Should I crash my son's gap year?
An empty nest hits some parents harder than expected and Michelle Obama recently admitted to having therapy to deal with hers. I'm the same age as Mrs O, a 'nan-aged' empty-nester who had two sons in my late thirties and early forties. However, after the sudden accidental death of my elder son, Jackson, in September 2023, at the age of just 21, it's fair to say my nest is even emptier than the former first lady's. Emptier, indeed, than I ever imagined it could be. I haven't had therapy and found other ways to get through. Yet towards the end of 2024 I'd all but exhausted my coping strategies when my partner was suddenly diagnosed with cancer and rushed into surgery. To deal with yet more extreme stress I chose to retreat; to batten down the hatches to get through what promised to be another tough winter, at the end of the cruellest year of my life. If this wasn't tough enough, while navigating profound personal loss and illness I lost friendships too. Inevitably, as so many testing, unanticipated chapters of my life unfolded, not everybody in it was able to stay on the same page. Still, while in this peculiar holding pattern I had sufficient wherewithal to suggest to my 18-year-old son, Rider, that after the worst year of his life — coinciding with his A-levels — he should probably embark on his richly deserved gap year even sooner than he had planned. With my partner about to start three months of postoperative preventive chemotherapy and Rider's friends scattered to uni or on travels of their own, there was little to look forward to at home, in the House of Absolutely No Fun Whatsoever. The Bank of Mum and Dad — albeit separated and repartnered for many years — ensured Rider boarded a flight to Brisbane on December 5 last year. At the other end he was met by my Aussie half-brother, Jonny, sister-in-law, Felicity, and two of my three nephews, Dominic, 10, and Memphis, 14 months, whom I'd never even met myself. It had been 16 years since I'd last visited Australia (along with a six-year-old Jackson) and 12 years since my Australian family had visited me; the latest addition to their family was born exactly a month to the day after Jackson had died. Given that my Aussie-born, UK-based father died in 2019 and my Aussie mother (who returned to Australia 45 years ago) died in 2020, during Covid, what remained of my diminished gene pool was quite suddenly all on the other side of the world. While I was born in the UK and have lived the whole of my adult life here I felt an umbilical tug. The thing is, my earliest memories are of the year I spent in Oz, aged three, when my mother had a trial separation from my father and took me 'home' — she was a country girl, having grown up on an 80,000-acre sheep station on the New South Wales/Victoria border. My parents eventually reconciled (for a few years) and I returned from my free-range year roaming the Australian bush to the suburbs of London. Accessorised by a tan and a broad Aussie accent, I defaulted to 'steereo' for stereo (a word used more often in the 1960s/1970s than today!) for years. After his arrival I gave Rider long enough to get over the jet lag and used to the high-summer heat before I started begging for pictures and updates via WhatsApp … Poor kid! Previously he and his brother had navigated the usual blended family's revolving doors ('Make sure you phone Mum on Mother's Day … I'll buy the card for Father's Day …'). They had each other's backs; now, tragically, Rider faced a future navigating the demands of his separated-but-equally-bereaved parents all by himself. His father and I inevitably both want big pieces of him while recognising he needs a new space for himself, free from our neediness; inevitably a tough balancing act for all. In the meantime, however, thank God for WhatsApp. 'What do you think of Australia so far?!' 'Amazing. I love it!' 'Good to hear! Show me the view!' Rider turned his phone around, waving a 'tinny' at a sunset over the gum trees with a twinkling Southern Cross emerging in the early evening sky. I sighed. 'That looks fantastic. Have the best time. Love you loads …' It really was a visceral tug. Yet I knew it was for the best that Rider remained a long way away from home during yet another emotionally bleak winter. Shortly before he died Jackson said that 2023 had been 'the perfect summer'. And now, if only by default in the light of his death, 2023 had become my 'perfect summer' too. Yet, once again, summer — the metaphorical and the real one ahead — seemed very far away, while future 'perfect summers' felt impossibly out of reach. Meantime I battened down the hatches once more. As my partner embarked on three months of chemotherapy I wanted to be there for him. However, (if all went well) afterwards I also wanted to reclaim space for myself. • 35 of the best things to do in Australia As Rider celebrated Aussie Christmas in Queensland — barbecue, swimming, cricket, hitting Surfers Paradise bars and clubs with his eldest cousin, Jordan — I hatched a plan. By the time he'd travelled to Sydney for New Year before arriving in Melbourne, I knew what I needed to do. Though how would my son feel if I crashed his gap year? Have you ever joined your child on their gap year? Let us know in the comments below
