Graduation

It’s graduation season in my corner of the world, my daughter is graduating from college. I’m proud of her and like a proud mama, I’m going to brag. She had a ton of unexpected hurdles she needed to overcome. A lot more drama than our even-keeled, level-headed, far-from-drama girl expected. I’m happy to say, not only did she overcome but she triumphed over them, graduating Summa Cum Laude.

 

It’s a great day for her and I’m so proud. But as I sit in the auditorium waiting for the ceremony to start. My mind begins to wonder. I can’t help but think about my son’s graduation day and how different I felt.

 

My son’s graduation day

I can still remember my son’s high school graduation very vividly.  Not that I wasn’t proud of him. I was. But it was a bittersweet day for me.

 

On one hand, I was proud of him and thankful to all the teachers and assistants who made that moment possible. At the same time, I was sad. I remember fighting back tears as I sat in the auditorium waiting for the commencement to begin.

 

My emotions were in sharp contrast with the vibe of the auditorium. So abuzz with the excitement of several hundred high school students, ready to take the first steps toward independence and adulthood. 

 

I remember watching the graduating seniors promenade the auditorium in their caps and gown. All aglow with the energy and optimism of youth. My son didn’t promenade but I watched as he was escorted to his seat by his assistant. He was so elated and happy (which is his normal disposition). He really had no idea what this moment meant or the changes that were to come.

 

I sat through the speeches and wondered how he was doing. I’m sure he was talking the whole time. I held my breath when they announced his name. Not sure if he would walk across the stage to get his diploma. But he did! I watched as he proudly and confidently walked across the stage and received his diploma. I clapped and hooted like a crazy woman.

 

He did it! My son graduated!

 

My son’s future

But as he walked down the steps to get off the stage that’s when the sadness crept in.

 

The reality of his future flashed before my eyes and all I saw were closing doors.

 

My sweet boy didn’t know this would be his last day of school. He had no idea the little yellow bus would never come for him again. The bus that to this day he refers to as “his bus”. He didn’t realize he wouldn’t be able to see his friends anymore.

 

The way of life he’s known since he was 3 will end today.

 

He loved school and unfortunately, no social story could make him understand it was coming to an end. 

 

The loss of a dream

It’s been several years since my son graduated from high school. As I look at him from where I sit, I realize he’s adjusted pretty well.

 

Yes, he still asks about riding the little yellow bus and going to school. But not as frequently as he once did. His temperament hasn’t changed. He’s still happy with his life. 

 

The sadness I felt many years ago was my grief. I was remembering a dream I once held for him. The dream that one day he would be independent, fly the nest and start his own life.

 

It’s a loss I sometimes feel when I see others his age getting their college degrees, pursuing careers, getting engaged, or married.

 

These moments paint a picture of what my life could’ve been like if my son didn’t have a disability. Do I long for that life? I honestly don’t know. But the loss of this dream still hurts and it taunts me with the “what if’s” and the “if only’s”.  

 

What would my life be like if my son didn’t have a disability?

 

What would his life be like? Would he be in a relationship? Would he be married? Would I be expecting my first gran-baby?

 

I don’t know.

 

Although a part of me thinks all that sounds lovely. 

 

My reality

Then I look at my family and realize we’d be very different. I know for sure, I’d be a very different person if my son didn’t have a disability.

 

I’m not sure if I want to give that up. Because I love my family.

 

I love all the quirks, and craziness that makes us who we are. We’ve learned to savor every victory and treasure each moment. We know how to make each other laugh and I love the fact we take the time to laugh.

 

Our family isn’t perfect.

 

We’re so far from typical.

 

It’s a reality we can’t hide.

 

We’re different, our life is different but this is our normal.

 

What I’ve learned

Despite all the dreams I had to let go of, I live an abundantly blessed life. It’s not perfect but I’m so thankful to God for it.

 

I don’t want to regret what I have, to dream about an idealistic version of what my life could’ve been.

 

 At the end of the day, this is the only life I know. This is the bag I’ve been given.

 

I think I’d rather spend my days enjoying it, rather than longing for the unknown. Even if that means sometimes sadness creeps in to remind me of what my life should’ve been like. 

 

So as I watch my daughter get her diploma I embrace the fact we’ll always have one happy baby bird who’ll never leave the nest.