My son graduated from high school last weekend. I didn’t
feel a thing. There is some truth to that. I grew up hiding my feelings and
pushing them aside. Now it is so automatic that sometimes I don’t feel when I
want to feel. That is how it was the night before his graduation. I found
myself being confused, thinking I needed to be productive and ‘get ready’ but
going in circles, not sure how to be most effective. I felt the importance of
the event and I didn’t want to mess up by being late or forgetting something.
But I also thought, “Shouldn’t I be feeling something?” I searched and all I
found was that confusion. I went to bed.
In the morning, I got up earlier than I thought I needed to
because I am always running late. My plan was to leave for the school to wait
in line half an hour before I thought I should. Emotion hit me while in the
shower as it often does. In that most private of places with warm water running
over my face, first there was the thought, “I wish my parents were here for
this,” and then the surge of emotion. A multitude arose together: my loneliness,
my loss, my grief, my desire to share an important moment with people who loved
me, my pride for my son, my own accomplishment as a single parent, again grief
over a failed marriage, some of the anger for my ex, sadness, my own insecurity,
and back to the desire to have my parents there to tell me I had done a good
job and to be that extended presence of support for my son. Then I cut it off
to continue getting ready.
My thirteen-year-old son stood in line with me. We had
half-an-hour to wait until the doors opened and two hours to wait until the
ceremony began. With surprise, he realized I was wearing nylons. “I didn’t even
notice,” he said. “Good. They are supposed to look natural,” I educated him. “Then
why wear them at all,” he asked? The woman in front of us laughed and commented,
“And so begins the educating of men!”
Sitting in the bleachers, he joined me in
observations of the band, people walking by, looking through the program flier,
pointing out names we recognized from my graduate talking about them, pointing
out people in the crowd that he knew, playing with the camera. We decided to
text his brother every few minutes to annoyingly ensure he was up and making it
to the school in time. My young son said, “If he doesn’t show, I will go up and
accept his diploma for him!” The graduate sent a text, “I am here.” I informed
him of his brother’s offer. The return text was, “Nice.” I was impressed by the
consideration just exchanged between the boys when much of the time they
complain of each other’s lack of consideration.
Their father sent a text saying he and his wife were sitting
up above if I wanted to join them. I declined. While waiting, I felt that
loneliness again. And again when the presenter had all grandparents rise and
next all parents rise. If we were still married, we would have been sharing
that moment with joy and pride and the knowledge of all we had been through to
get to that point. In the back of my mind, I noted another loss. I also noted
that too much had been revealed in our relationship for that congenial image to
exist in reality. Again, I wanted someone to share the moment with me. I became
aware of my son sitting next to me being a very enjoyable companion. I found
myself thinking, “It is different than it is supposed to be, but it is still
good.” I regained my balance as a single, independent, capable mom.
Young son and I arrived at their dad’s house for the after
graduation reception party. I carried meat and cheese trays and was sans
nylons. I appeared pleasant, relaxed, and casual. For the most part, this was
real. There were some awkward moments. At one point, I felt I was acting as
hostess in his fancy home as I would have done in the past. His sister’s and
their spouses talked with me as we always would have, but years had passed
since we had actually been around each other in this way. My own sister was
there and told me my dress suited me well. She wouldn’t say it if it weren’t
so. It was nice to have that feedback as I proceeded as an individual.
The graduate didn’t give me an opportunity to get a picture
of him with just me.
But before I left for home, he informed me he had been
invited to two different graduation parties. “I want to go to both, do you
mind?” I offered him my confidence and trust in his judgment with the freedom
to be out as long as he wanted. I also told him he could call me if he needed a
ride home. I joked about him being a light weight and he let me know he might
have more experience than I thought. I was satisfied with the respect he had
shown by discussing his plans with me rather than just doing as he
pleased.
Later that evening, my young son and I watched a comedy with
Ben Stiller. We ate popcorn and more cheese from those cheese trays. He had
discovered that day that he liked pepper jack cheese. So do I. Here was something
new we could enjoy together.
