They are the things that happen only once in a lifetime that mark the passage of time and also those major transitions in life. In this case, it was the high school graduation of our granddaughter Diana. In some ways, it's hard to wrap my head around the fact that this day had arrived.
Looking back, the memories of this now-young lady roll out of my mind in nearly HD clarity. The day she was born, the first years as she grew up. That first day of school, and as her artistic talents blossomed in the chalk masterpieces that covered our driveway. Mostly though, I remember her sweet, loving nature, unselfishness and generosity. She visited us many times, and her family lived with us in Virginia for three years, a priceless collection of moments. I remember the day in Pennsylvania when she and I took our dog Tweeter out for a walk and she got to hold the leash by herself for the first time. There was the time when she got to ski for the first time, her face set in determination as her grandmother ran unsteadily alongside trying to keep up, unnecessarily as it turned out.
Determined.
If there was one descriptive word that encompasses Diana, that would be it. Most ambitious people wear that on their sleeves, making sure everyone knows about it. Diana's gentle nature hides that part of her. Where it becomes apparent is in her actions. Her work ethic, intensity in sports, the utterly focused expression when she plays violin. We once asked her about the multitudinous activities she was involved in, concerned about burnout. She responded, "No, I WANT to do all these things! Everything!"
This fall she will be off to college in far-off New York state, that first tentative trek into the unknown. She seems confident and ready. But what characterizes this signpost moment is the reality that we will no longer be able to protect her. That's scary for those of us who love her the most, an instinctive reaction. But perhaps the time has come when maybe we won't need to, at least on a day to day basis. We'll always be available for advice and counsel, day or night. But the hard part of this moment is realizing that the time has come to let go, to have faith in what we taught her, and what she has learned. There will be times when she will feel alone in adversity. But that is so much a part of growing up, learning how to face those times, how to win. And how to deal with the defeats.
On Graduation Day, we watched as Diana and her fellow grads walked into the ice hockey arena and across the stage. We cheered her loudly, but we were not alone. Other families were there, cheering as well. The love, pride, and joy was palpable as the happy noises cascaded down from the stands to shower over that sea of sky blue caps and gowns. It was a uniting moment for us all.
A few years from now there will be another graduation, this time from college, which I fervently hope I will be healthy enough to attend. Another signpost will be surpassed, and for Diana, another trek will be undertaken.
Today, we are happy and optimistic. But we know that her journey has just begun. Ahead lie challenges that are unforeseeable. But Diana has been launched on a path that will be uniquely hers. We can no longer lead, but must now watch from the sidelines. Part of the heartbreak is the realization that if we have done our jobs well, she won't need us. So, we will have faith. And hope. But she must walk this path on her own, strong, upright, and yes, determined.
She will succeed.
She will be accomplished.
She will fulfill her dreams.
She is, after all, our granddaughter.
