Graduation

Hey Aaron,

Michael graduated Wednesday.

And I guess in a way, so did I. 

I mean, we've had 27 years in the public school system. That's 114 child years! And now it's over.  

A few years ago I wrote about "lasts" including the empty nest that would someday come. Even with all my writing, my philosophising, my anticipatory grief, I never did understand what that would look like. 

I mean, I still am having trouble wrapping my mind around it. 

As I sit now, Daddy is on the computer next to me and Andrew and Michael are on couches across the room. Sophie is snuggled next to me and Simba is snoring on his bed. And it's quiet, so quiet!

No more Saturday morning emails (okay, I won't miss those). No more concerts, sports events, homework projects, early morning seminary or late night practices. None of those. No more school busses or first day of school pictures.

This was Michael's 12th graduation ceremony, 13th if we count yours; and the first one that's been for him. I was looking through pictures for his slideshow and was struck again at how the two of you grew up together. And then the last one of him holding you in the early morning hours five months ago, after you passed. The anguish on his face, the love, the breaking of his heart, and the peace on your face. It's not a picture for sharing with the general public. It's too precious, too sacred. The love he has for you is immense. 

So were you there? Did you shout and cheer for him? I mean, he was the only one not already in school when you came on the scene, and you actually started preschool the same year he started 1st grade. You were together, and in many ways, will always be together forever. He is part of you, and you are part of him. 

You know, as I look through your pictures at your smile, the videos of you dancing, somehow my heart clenches at the idea that we don't have that anymore. I want just one more, and then one more, and one more after that... I guess even if I did get those "one mores" they still wouldn't be enough. It could never be enough.

You used to wear Lone Peak shirts; and we'd say you were a knight for life. I think you were. Our only child not to actually formally graduate as a Lone Peak Knight, you were noble in your own right, and you are our knight in shining armor.  You just graduated much sooner than I anticipated. 

Love you so much, kiddo.

Keep watching over us. We need you still.

Love, 
Mama

"Being a brother is even better than being a superhero."

- Marc Brown