When our son, M., was born, time dilated. Days seemed long and dangerous for this miracle I was sure I could not have created but had been gifted to me. I distinctly remember thinking “Wow, it will be so long until he is one month old!” Braiding our love with joy, conflict, separation, grief, change, mistakes, forgiveness and life over the past almost two decades may have been made of moments that seemed infinite while lived. Today nineteen years feel like a blink.
I am writing this instead of getting ready to attend M’s Senior Processional. It is almost like I am trying to dilate time. Stay a child, a bit more! But … he is already a man, beautiful, kind, smart and ready to be free of our proximity. Never of our love.
Over the past month, as we have prepared for this moment (as if you can ever …) I found myself less and less willing to share my feelings with others. I can count on three fingers the people who understood that there is a paradox here that demands no answer, just a holding of space. The feelings of parents upon their child entering the “big scary world” are not to be fixed. They are to be seen.
It is so true that:
- we are lucky if we get to see our children successful, graduating a good school, joyous and ready to start something new
- this is the rite of life, it is as it is supposed to be and, especially in today’s world, music, ceremony, under a bright blue summer sky are an immense blessing
- the hardship they are bound to encounter will make their bones strong; especially if each and every small or big bone in their body is tied with the ribbon of unconditional, everlasting parental love
- it is going to be exciting to see them flourish
And it is also true that:
- this is the end of an era – the end of “mommy” and the end of packing school lunches
- the all encompassing care for the child down the hall, transforms into an all encompassing but labeled “exagerrated” worry for the young adult living in another home, not taking your call when you haven’t heard from them in two days
- the world today. Period. No comment needed.
- this young adult goes on to have his heart broken – this is a given; and since that is still partly your heart, better brace for impact.
I get that people don’t know what to say in moments like these and that the instinct is to appease. We are wired to run away from discomfort. And, if we really want to be a friend to a parent whose child is graduating these days, we’d better stop ourselves before these phrases come out of our mouth: Oh, come on, this is a happy occasion! Oh, come on, why are you crying like this, nobody died! Oh, don’t tell me, let me tell you about the time mine graduated! Oh, stop crying, you will make your child feel bad! Believe me, our silence is one hundred times more friendly.
If we can find it in ourselves to want to do things that help, we need to look the parent of the graduate to be in the eye and say: I know this is hard, thank you for sharing with me. Give them a hug or simply shake their hand. Be honest: I don’t know what to say, I can tell it is hard. I am here.
In the liminal space of such overwhelming life changes, when someone allows their tears or fears to be seen, it is seldom that people are looking for fixes. They are simply feeling. And they can do that alone. But everything is so much easier to carry rocked in the hug or reflected in the eyes of a friend.
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