COMMENTARY: Life Changes With Graduation

I always knew this one would be the hard one.

Of all the graduations, our youngest daughter’s was going to be the toughest. Her leaving was the most heart-tugging.

When you have four children, any one event tends to become more part of a mosaic than a portrait.

Things may have a color of their own, but they tend to be seen in the context of previous and future events.

Soccer games all blur together in a mass of brightly colored jerseys and frosty mornings. Was that picture by the tree in the front yard on the first day of school of the oldest two or the second and third? You spend a lot of time digging through that big box of photos, or digging through the back channels of your mind.

But some events stand out.

We refer to our oldest as the test baby, the one we broke in on. Her graduation was more of a first-time blur, and tinted by the fact that we had what we thought were lots more to go. For our oldest son and his group of friends, graduation was like getting up Sunday morning after a great party Saturday night. Glad you did it, but pretty sure you don’t want to do it again for a while and more than a little interested in just sitting quietly for a bit.

But our youngest daughter? Well, that’s another story…

She was the first of the two born in Rogers, so in effect, some of her friends she has known almost literally from her initial moments. We have photos of her smashing that first birthday cake with one of her best friends, one of the girls who walked with her at graduation. They’ll probably be in that line of cars heading down to college this fall.

These kids are our kids, virtually every one of them a face from an elementary school class picture, a little head peeking out from blankets at a sleep-over, a first wobbly high-heeled walk while prom pictures are taken. She’s moving on. And so are they all.

It sounds terribly parochial and patriarchal, but in a real way, you launch sons out into the world like so many planes from the deck of an aircraft carrier, full of admonitions and encouragements to make a mark, make a difference, make the world a better place. And while you may want that for your daughters as well, some part of you is still waiting at the bottom of the slide, waiting up for the end of the date, waiting in the front yard for that first solo drive to end. And always will be. This will be a challenging summer for us and for her and for all of them. Relationships that have been coming together for 18 years will have three months to come apart. Already two of her closest friends will be going away to school on opposite sides of the country. Things are different now, and it seems to be easier to stay in contact, but how long before “best friends forever” become “a kid I knew in high school”?

It may take us all some time to realize, but before long, she’s going to be living in a place not of our design, following rules and rhythms and patterns not of our making. Her life and ours will be more connected by the past than the present.

And how long before we all realize the place we built for our family isn’t the place she lives anymore? How long before it becomes for her like a wonderful vacation rental,full of memories, but a place she leaves to go back to her life, where she lives now?

How long before her immediate family is somehow separate from our immediate family?

All of our children have remained in the area, so in that sense we’re fortunate.

But we know that’s an opportunity or a relationship away from not being the case. We’re not empty-nesters just yet. Our youngest son still has a few years to go before we’re done with high school.

But his interests are quieter, much more introspective and personal, his journey not quite so dramatically filled with Senior Days and final recitals. It’s a journey we’ve been on before, however.

And to some degree, we know how it ends.

My daughter and her friends, the friends we’ve known all their lives and hers, graduated last week.

Soon they’ll be on to bright, new, exciting things and the events of the this - the parties and hugging and joy - will be memories. As will this time with us.

She has to leave. They all do. But why do they have to go?

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GARY SMITH IS A RECOVERING JOURNALIST LIVING IN ROGERS.