I didn’t cry on your graduation day. I am sorry, but I think I ran out of tears a long time ago. I had planned on crying, knowing myself and the importance of the evening I had applied minimal eye makeup. I was hoping not to walk out of there looking like Alice Cooper with a mascara fail! As the ceremony started and you and your friends entered the church, I found that I had run out of tears.
I was bone dry – the “only” feeling I felt was pride!
I have cried tears of sorrow, tears of fear, tears of hope and tears of happiness for you – on several occasions. Tears did not seem fitting for your graduation day. On your big day we celebrate that you learned to play nice with 13 other children. You know your numbers and most of your letters. We celebrate that you can write your name with confidence, sing songs with excitement and talk about God and the Bible with curiosity. You mastered how to walk single-file down the hall, open your lunch box and even blow your nose. Running and being loud in chapel was not allowed. Making friends was easy for you, settling disputes you handled swiftly. Hand washing after using the bathroom became second nature. Coughing into your sleeve was not foreign to you. You learned to share your toys, good nature, but not your germs. You learned more and you did better than we could have ever dreamed of – so crying did not seem fitting.
I will save my tears for the day I send you off to Kindergarten, when I have to let go of you just a little bit. But on your graduation we celebrate and honor all your grand achievements. My prayer for your first day of preschool still holds true.(Click to read)
Thank you for being my hero – it is because of you that I am the mom I am today. You have taught me to look at the world and people in a whole new light – a gentler and kinder light. You have dared me to live in the NOW – to love without hesitation. Your zest for life challenges me to reach higher and do better.
I want to mirror the magnitude of your achievements – THAT is my measure of success.