Beginnings and Endings: Graduation Day

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Beginnings and Endings: Graduation Day

Well, they did it. We did it. Children #3 and #4 walked across the platform, smiles and handshakes extended, and received their high school diplomas. Last Wednesday was graduation day and the big party was Sunday, and it all has left me feeling more than a little sentimental and reflective.

Though we’ve been down this road twice before, this experience is different for a few reasons. For one thing, there is only one more kid to go before they’ve all reached this big milestone and moved on to the next phase of their lives. Also, all our daughters have now finished high school, and with that marks the end of band, the end of chorus, the end of cheerleading. Buying dresses for proms. The everyday hormonal rollercoaster of living with three teenage girls.

But more than anything, our daughters’ graduation marks the end of a particularly long and difficult road; one that’s been traveled by blended families, families who have adopted older children, and multi-racial families. All of which we are and have done. And those are some big issues to pack in your car as you head out on that road trip.

As I sat in my metal folding chair on the high school lawn, a slideshow of memories began to play in my mind.

I saw Emilee, who arrived to us from Korea, chubby-cheeked and bald and dressed in four layers of clothing. Her perfect little face with a perfectly flat bridge on her nose–the ideal landing place for kisses from her mama. How she chattered nonstop as a little girl, with her soft “Rs” and her sparkling eyes. The inseparable bond she had with her older sister when they were small. How she traveled to Uganda with us at twelve years old to adopt her new sister and brother, and never complained once during that very challenging month overseas.

I thought of how she imagined she was getting a new best friend, a same-age sister, and was crushed that she was the one who was hated, blamed, mocked, and shunned by her new siblings. But nevertheless, Emilee loved. She forgave, and she pressed on despite the growing darkness she experienced in her spirit. She kept smiling, kept achieving, She pushed forward, though she rarely felt like it mattered, and her graciousness and her love made a relationship possible with her new sister. They hugged and laughed and posed for pictures before graduation…and it was real and genuine. And then they stood there, first side by side, and then one after the other, they walked down the platform to receive their diplomas. No one really knew what it took for Emilee to arrive at that place, decked out in her honor garb and her many colored tassels. But we did.

And I also saw Victoria when I first met her at eight years old, carrying a wooden bench on her head–a bench for me to sit on as I visited her and her brother in Uganda. How the following year, she knocked over a chair rushing into my arms, hugging, crying, not wanting to let go. And how, as our adoption process dragged on, she grew colder, bolder, and more self-reliant. How she stood so bravely before the judge in his chambers and told him she wanted us to adopt her and Martin, even though their biological parents were there in the room.

I recalled how thick her walls were, how deadly her defenses, how resistant she was to loving or being loved. But I also remembered when she first told me she loved me. How the room would light up and the atmosphere shifted whenever she smiled or laughed. How hard she fought to fit in and excel at school. How desperately she wanted friends even though she said she didn’t need them.

I remembered feeling doubtful when she announced she wanted to be a cheerleader and astounded when she made Varsity her junior year. How she had to take tumbling lessons (with no background in gymnastics) to even have a chance to qualify for the competition team, but she did. I chuckled under my breath when she announced she was going to play softball (not even knowing what it was) but was humbled when she stuck it out all season, nearly every game on the bench.

She did it all, despite the odds, and often in spite of herself. She made honor roll every single semester since eighth grade. She went to both her proms without a date and without shame. Her senior year, she made friends, her sister being one of them. And it was Victoria who initiated the graduation photos and hugs with Emilee. As she walked across that platform, my husband and I knew that no one really had any idea what it took Victoria to get to that place. But we did.

My kids’ graduation brings about such a complex mix of emotions in me: pride, sadness, joy, relief.

Excitement. Exhaustion.

Fullness and emptiness at the same exact time.

Wanting to hold onto them forever and wanting to launch them into their futures right this very minute.

Sorry I wasn’t a better mom, but proud knowing we did what few people would choose to do.

Not feeling really sure we’d do it all over again, but so glad that we made it all the way through.

And here we are, on the other side. They did it. We did it. A somewhat bittersweet ending to a difficult but rewarding journey. And now, the dawn is breaking on a brand-new beginning. A brand-new road heading into uncharted territory.

Every new beginning for them is a new beginning for us, too.

And for that, I am grateful.