Tonight, I watched yet another, our third child, graduate high school. This one joined our family at a later stage, but is my daughter still the same.
I watch from a new view - these very middle ages.
In the beginning of my middle ages, I watched as my first child graduated high school. I was probably more scared than he was. I had seen enough to know the world wouldn't always be kind - and sometimes was downright scary. I was still young enough to remember how sure and confident I was at his age. And - the word that scares all parents - immortal. The belief that nothing can get in your way and nothing can slow you down - let alone stop you! Some of us learned very hard lessons here.
Letting go of your first child is heart wrenching. And it is as much as a "maturity step" for the parents as it is the child. After devoting your life to bringing this person up - letting go is a real lesson in - letting God. Trusting the job you have done with His help. Trusting that the roots are strong enough to hold, no matter how close to the sun they fly.
By child number two, letting go is a little easier. But where I can actually miss my #1 son (you should visit your mother more), my #1 daughter is still fluttering about the nest. She ventures out for a time, and then returns to the safety of our home.
This #2 daughter is firmly planted in her future. She will remain close to the nest while she finishes her "advanced flying lessons"(college).
We have one more child to guide through high school. It will go much too quickly.
We have begun our lessons in our new upcoming role of empty nesters. We fly a little longer on our outings. We roam more. Our chicks don't require our presence for feedings or much else. In fact, they seem to relish the "breathing room". We have discovered we have individual names and personalitlies. We are not just "MomandDad". We have rediscovered interests we had thought forever lost. Interests like: each other! We have time to talk, share, and rediscover the very same things that made it all worth while in the beginning.
It seems very proper and right that we are given this second chance together. The first time seems just a blur. My sweet husband and I share something unique. We chose to stay married to each other - forever. Beginning to end. Someday, one of us will have to let go of the other.
What we lose first, as youth, is immortality. Our mortality now looms firmly in the future. Our children are adults. We have already said good-bye to the majority of our grandparents, some of our parents, and a few of our friends. Some of us have said good-bye to children. I used to read the local paper to see who among our peers had gotten married or had another baby. Now I'm checking to see who is the newest grandparent.
And all this runs through my head as I watched the new graduates tonight. Young eager faces ready to change the world - and some of them will. This graduation has taken them a lifetime to achieve. It seems like mine was just yesterday, but yesterday in another life. What these young people have spent a lifetime to achieve is only a ripple in the pond of life. Joyous moments tend to be ripples. Grief is a wave that washes over everything, but eventually recedes. Children are tidal waves. Nothing will ever be the same again.
The first thing a class learns together is to line up in an orderly fashion. The last thing a class does together is line up for the last orderly procession together. Get ready world - tomight's group - they got it wrong. But after much shuffling around in chairs and of chairs and of robed and honored graduates - they eventually got it right!
My graduation was a small, intimate, formal affair. (There were only 21 of us.)
Tonight's graduation was a huge class ( well over 200) and a gigantic auditorium. Nobody around us seemed to care enough to be respectful. Talking, joking, booing, running around. I've seen better behaved crowds at a I-Cubs game. So very disrespectful - in a moment so very important to this generation. Get ready Class of 2003, it's a rude world and it is already rearing it's ugly head.