Some people handle major life events in stride, but considering my general aptitude for all things clumsy, I’m stumbling all over the place right now. I’m every lousy cliché of the forlorn dad, mopey and weeping as my little girl graduates and abandons me for a life that is out of my control. Change may be inevitable, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it or that I can’t fight against it with every ounce of my determination.
There are a lot of pieces to this emotional puzzle, and part of it is facing my own age. I still have moments when I feel like a high school student, so I don’t know how I can be the father of a graduate. My creaky bones and graying beard may attest to the fact that I am no longer young, but my mind still dares to question, and my heart can still skip a beat without being called arrhythmia. Accepting the fact that I have a child who is almost nineteen years old and ready for college forces me to acknowledge the fact that I am almost forty five years old and quite likely on the other side of that equator line called “middle age.”
Although I thought it was beyond my limits when they were born, the weight of parenthood is much heavier now. You reach a point when you realize that all of your cards are on the table and you can’t take them back or change your play. You aren’t sure that you always gave your best, and even if you did was your best good enough? You question every conversation you ever had, and every word you ever said. Was I a builder of self-esteem and a supporter of dreams, or a destroyer of hope and fulfillment?
It seems like just two weeks ago that Shelby was born. I had a lot of plans and a lot of goals. I had the best of intentions. There was a lot more I wanted to do as a parent and I hope she can live without those things easier than I can live with the fact that I didn’t do them. I carry regret like a kid carries a back pack to school. It’s heavy and full of stuff I probably don’t need, but if I forget to take it one day, someone will always bring it to me.
Of course, another regret I’ll have in years to come is that I’ve somehow made Shelby’s graduation more about me than about her. I’ll look back and read this and think “why didn’t I just relax and enjoy it more?” That’s easy for me to say. I’m not here, I’m there.
Despite all that, I know that none of this soul-searching, angst-filled, self-therapy means anything compared to the love and pride I have in my daughter right now. Shelby is a beautiful, mature, intelligent, talented young lady who can do whatever she dreams to do, and she doesn’t need my help or hindrance to do it. Still, I’ll offer the help, and with her Mom’s assistance, I’ll try to not be a hindrance. She may be stepping out on her own, but she will never, ever be alone.
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