As graduation season unfolds, students of all ages—from preschoolers to doctoral candidates—celebrate this pivotal moment. This topic resonates with me deeply, as my eldest, Alex, is completing his senior year of high school. Many have cautioned me about the emotional rollercoaster I might experience, longing for the simplicity and innocence of his early school days. However, I’m finding it difficult to feel that nostalgia.
I’ve reviewed the kindergarten videos, unearthed second-grade report cards adorned with heartfelt notes from teachers, and even stumbled upon forgotten family photos and cherished Mother’s Day cards. Yet, despite the sentimental value of these items, they haven’t stirred any poignant emotions in me. You may wonder why, and I believe I have an answer.
A popular poem circulates online during this time, capturing the bittersweet essence of “lasts” with your child. It poignantly describes moments like the last time you carry them on your hip or the final time they reach for your hand when crossing the street. Those words can indeed evoke tears, especially if you’re in the right emotional space. Yet, at this moment, I find myself more eager to usher this towering, food-loving, and somewhat unkempt young man into his next chapter.
My List of “Lasts”
I have my own list of “lasts” that are more relevant to my experience:
- As soon as puberty hits, everything changes. I often reminisce about the days when entering his room didn’t require a gas mask. Those days, along with his willingness to heed my advice, are long gone.
- I anticipate the last of phone calls from the school notifying me that my son decided to leave campus without permission, only to execute a dramatic spinout in the parking lot—clipping a car and taking out a light pole in the process.
- The days of his bedroom overflowing with toys are fading. Instead, it’s now a chaotic collection of dirty dishes and remnants of meals long past. But rest assured, this stage is temporary.
- One day, I will log into my iTunes account and be relieved to find no unexpected charges for random apps or inappropriate songs. There will come a time when I won’t witness my 18-year-old accidentally breaking a neighbor’s window while practicing his golf swing or discovering measuring cups stashed in the wrong places after I ask him to empty the dishwasher.
And then, the day will arrive when he packs up his belongings—hardened underwear, moldy towels, and half-used deodorants that he mistakenly believes are still effective. He will step out the door, and that will be the last time I hear his car—an infernal screeching machine—leave the driveway. Or will it?
I can’t allow myself to settle into the notion of a quiet home just yet; he’s not quite ready to leave permanently.
So, please forgive me for not feeling melancholic or nostalgic. He’s equipped with the necessary skills to fend for himself—he knows how to forage for snacks and use utensils. He’s capable of packing up his belongings and is aware of basic hygiene practices. Most importantly, I trust that he knows the way back home, and I hope he’ll come back often.
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In summary, while the transition of a child moving out can evoke a range of emotions, my focus is on the excitement and readiness for the next chapter in life—both for my son and for myself.
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