My daughter graduated from high school today. A simple thing, yet monumental. In a way, this day is the culmination of much of what we concerned ourselves with for the past 16 years. Three years of preschool, one year of kindergarten and eight years of grade school and four years of high school. I was there for her as she struggled with this class or soared in that class. I watched countless choir concerts, school plays, band and orchestra concerts. I supervised hundreds of hours of homework, test preparation and instrument and vocal practice. It occurred to me about an hour ago that my daughter has no more homework, no more classes to finish, no more school to rush off to every morning. This past Tuesday morning, I made and packed her very last school lunch without realizing it. I realized it at work about 10am and nearly burst into tears. I won’t miss her monthly tuition payments, but I never once despised them.
My daughter had a rougher start to school life than many kids, though thankfully not as difficult as some. I don’t have the right to discuss her difficulties anymore since she is now an adult, but I can say that it involved numerous doctor appointments, days of heartache (more mine than hers), illness, strategies, teacher consultations, phone calls and emails. I will also say that at one point during her third year of life, I could not say whether she would ever graduate from high school. Somewhere between third and fourth grade, I realized that she was going to be alright. The fact that she has graduated from a rigorous private high school is a true miracle. But the miracle is because good teachers were willing to listen to me, understand my daughter, give a extra measure of grace and patience while still insisting on full expectations.
I’ve spent the past few weeks getting the house ready for a celebration - family today and friends in June. My on-going back problems, coupled with a bad cold, made this week difficult. My husband and I spent the past two days cleaning and preparing food. We left the house for the drive to her high school with only minutes to spare. I was tired, sick and not prepared for the sight of my daughter and her classmates lined up in the hall in their caps and gown. I felt the tears begin, but I held back. Once settled into our seats in the bleachers with many family members around us, that music began. The song that made me cry at my own college commencement: Pomp and Circumstance March No 1.. Oh, I wasn’t ready to here that song and see my daughter walking in a procession of graduates. I watched the students enter the gymnasium solemnly led by two pastors and the valedictorian and salutatorian. I silently began to sob. I was literally shaking. Sheesh! My sister moved to sit next to me. My 16 year old son looked at me in horror. I thought it was hopeless, but then my brother-in-law saved the day by leaning over and saying, “Here, have a Lifesaver! We burst into laughter and I was able to pull myself back together. Maybe in two years, I’ll be more ready for my son’s graduation.
So why cry at seeing my daughter in the processional? The beauty of tradition, the pride of graduation, the emotion of a beautiful and meaningful song. Some people thought I was sad at the thought of my daughter leaving home. That’s an odd thought; somehow, I know that she will always be a constant presence in our lives. I have total peace about that. I cried because it was all so beautiful and wonderful. It was the fulfillment of one dream and a glimpse of a new dream. This day was good and I thank God for it. His grace and love have shone on us during the sad times and the good times. Our love has wavered, but His love hasn’t. God is good!
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