How was it?
Except for the 30 seconds when my son strutted across the stage to collect his diploma and those same 30 seconds when his name and face were on the overhead jumbotron but I could only focus my eyes (camera) on one so I missed the jumbotron part? Pretty boring. 800 graduates, most of whom you don’t know, and you’re waiting an hour and a half to hear one name. That’s after the thirty minutes you spent waiting in the entry security line. And an extra hour getting there early for *good* seats. But in those 30 seconds I saw a hyper speed montage of my firstborn’s hallmark moments, the highs and lows that delivered him to that stage in his cap and gown. Those 30 seconds were everything.
So…did you have good seats?
If by ‘good’ you mean a panoramic view of the class of 2024 monitoring the jumbotron for a familiar face/scrolling till their phones died while being close enough to get my son’s attention and snap a few photos by howling his name as he followed a trail of fellow graduates to the faraway stage, then yes. Also, when he looked in our direction, he could see his family thumbs-upping and blowing kisses, but from such a distance that we could not embarrass him.
Can you believe you’re the mom of a college graduate?
No I can’t. But then, there are a lot of things I can’t believe, like the fact that my four kids are all taller than me and no longer require me to cut their toast into dinosaur and heart shapes. I can’t believe I’m half a century old and that it’s already May. Next month I won’t be able to believe it’s already June and a few months later I won’t believe that the summer is over and, whoa, there’s Rosh Hashana sneaking up on me. I can’t believe how the passage of time never fails to take me by surprise
Were there any, uh, disruptions?
I know what that means and, despite my fully alert antennae and tense anticipation, there were none. Thank God.
Did you get all emotional?
I spent the train ride to the graduation scrolling through old photos of my son; eating yogurt as a baby, squinting into the sunlight at his first birthday party, picking apples with his nursery class, reading the Torah at his bar mitzva. I felt nostalgic and, unsurprisingly, amazed at how time had flown by. As I made my way to a (decent) seat inside the 8,000 person arena, I spotted him waving at me from the court below, grinning in his black gown and multicolored ropes draped around his neck. My throat tightened, but I chalked it up to love and a deep sense of pride. During the proceedings, I glanced at him often staving off the monotony by picturing him at his kindergarten graduation. But something was nipping at my heart. It wasn’t until after he collected his diploma and made his way back to his seat that I figured out what it was. His garb reminded me of my own college graduation twenty nine years earlier; my cap and gown were black too.1 My mom died less than a year before I, her firstborn, graduated. So while I felt proud of my boy’s hard earned milestone, I was also grateful- so grateful- to be there screaming his name at the top of my lungs. I felt lucky to have given my son something I never had. If that’s what you meant by ‘getting emotional’ then, yes, I absolutely did.
Parent of a college grad? How was it? Tell me in the comments below!
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Congratulations! And how emotional in the context of your mom not making it to your own graduation. My kiddo graduated during the pandemic, so no ceremony, though she did take photos in her cap and gown. We put a couple of congratulatory signs on our lawn. All I cared about was that she was alive and well. Similar to your situation, my friend's daughter passed away from CF months before her college graduation (14 years ago) so I never forget how fortunate I am to have my daughter with me.
Congratulations! Can't believe you have a college graduate. What?!!! :)