About 13 years ago, I pulled my Honda Odyssey up to the back door of a red brick school building. My oldest child hopped out of the van and walked toward the doorway, his back pack bouncing on his shoulders. I waited, maybe hoped, for one last look from him, a wave, a “bye Mom”. It never came. Without hesitation, he disappeared into the shadows of the kindergarten hall.
For a few seconds, this lack of acknowledgment stung. He’d already forgotten about me, the woman who had created him, carried him, nursed him. But then I realized I didn’t want him to look back and see the swell of emotions spilling onto my cheeks. And, more importantly, I understood that he didn’t look back because he was excited about the day ahead, and wondering if he’d get a spot in the reading bathtub his kindergarten teacher had parked in the corner of her classroom. And that’s exactly what he needed to be thinking about, not his overwhelmed mother, sniffing her way out of the elementary school parking lot.
Thirteen years later, I’m preparing to watch this same son take another important walk, across a stage to receive his high school diploma. It’s a tumultuous time for my heart, with excitement and joy and worry all competing for first place in the pageant of my emotions. I’ve succumbed to a few tearful moments, and there will be more, and the Word Nerd is struggling to find the right adjective to describe this swelling of pride and nostalgia that brings tears to my eyes. It’s not sadness. How can I be sad that my son is successfully launching off to a school that he desperately wants and needs to attend? Perhaps it’s trepidation about the future. I’ve never been good with change, or the unknown. Perhaps it’s because this is the child who rubs my back when he knows I’m tense.
The verb “to graduate” comes from the Latin gradus, meaning step or degree. One definition of graduate is “to pass from one stage of experience, proficiency, or prestige to a usually higher one.” (Merriam-Webster). Passing to a higher one. My son is going on to better experiences and higher proficiency. He is taking steps toward becoming an independent adult, one who is thoughtful and curious and able to help the world with his talents. The goal of parenthood is to launch, and my son is ready to fly. That’s what I must focus on and celebrate when the tears rise to my eyes, and I tremble at the thought of my boy moving hours away from home. He’s going on to something better.
I’ve received various snippets of advice from wiser mothers who have been through this dance already. One told me to start praying years ago, so that when the time came, I’d be ready. My prayer, often the words of Jeremiah 29:11, has, and will continue to, soothe my soul. One friend told me that things are different when your child goes off to college, but different doesn’t mean bad. I’ve internalized that mantra: different doesn’t mean bad. Another has watched her son thrive in a college setting, and although she misses him, her sadness is outweighed by gratitude for his happiness.
I’ve also learned from wiser friends that the mothering doesn’t stop just because we send them off to school. This is a lifelong job, and every stage has its joys and challenges. Babies are adorable, but require so much physical care. Toddlers are fun, but tantrums and sippy cups get old. Teenagers are thoughtful and hilarious, but they suck the emotional energy right out of you. I can’t wait to figure out what I will love and what I must endure about being the mother of a college student.
With this knowledge tucked inside my heart, and a tissue pack tucked inside my purse, I prepare myself for the ceremony tonight, as well as for the months ahead when I will help my child pack up his essentials and move to a place where he can pass to a new, and hopefully better, stage of experience.
And I hope he won’t look back.
Do you have any tips for surviving big life events like graduation? What’s a good word to describe the emotions?
Thanks for getting sentimental with me,
