I recently said to my husband, “I feel like we are about to cross the finish line of a major marathon.” He said to me, “Well, we have been parenting for 26 years.” (Our eldest son turned 26 in April, and for those of you non-runners like me, who for the longest time thought that those stickers on cars that state “26.2” perhaps referred to a Bible verse, the stickers actually refer to the fact that a marathon is 26.2 miles long.)
Today is my daughter’s high school graduation. She is the youngest of our four children and she is our only girl. She has opted to start college in the summer, so in about a month, this empty nest thing will truly be our reality. When I am not feeling curiously numb about this graduation ceremony soon to happen, I feel this:
pride/shock/awe/sadness/happiness/confusion/clarity/relief/exhaustion/vitality/excitement/fear/emptiness/fullness/curiosity/wonder/reminiscence/hilarity/anticipation/gratefulness/longing/protectiveness/faith/hope/love/love/love/love/love/love/love
and all of this is happening in rapid fire succession, or perhaps these emotions are actually happening all at once. I really don’t know. Some experiences cannot be put into words, as hard as I try.
This is what I do know, though. This marathon has been completely and totally worth it. This marathon has been, and will always be, the most important, meaningful race of my life. I honestly had no way of preparing for what it would mean to be tasked with getting four amazing souls safely from babyhood into their adulthoods, but I kept my stride. I stumbled here and there, but I always kept on going. I caught my breath, and I kept on going. I kept the pace. And I held the hand of my husband, throughout it all, and so together, today, we will cross this finish line completely tied. It won’t even be a photofinish. We will do this crossing over the finish line together, completely as one, just like we did at the starting line, a little over 26 years ago.
“Of all the races, there is no better stage for heroism than a marathon.” – George Sheehan
“Ask yourself: ‘Can I give more?’ The answer is usually: ‘Yes’.”– Paul Tergat
“When you run the marathon, you run against the distance, not against the other runners and not against the time.” -Haile Gebrselassie
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.
Kelly, you and your husband will remember this day for the rest of your lives. It is such a dichotomy, you’re right. You’ll feel everything. Smile and cry through it all. You won’t be alone…although it might feel like you are. It might feel like it’s just you and your daughter. It’s weird/special/satisfying/scary/hopeful/amazing/wonder-inducing/beautiful. Yup. All the things.
Thanks for being there in spirit, Gail. <3 It's the runners before us that show us it can be done.
Kelly,
Reading your blog, I actually have goosebumps from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
I get it, I got it and I understand.
You have run the race and are still standing to bask in the glory!
Amid your heart feeling like it is being ripped out of your body….
SMILE! ENJOY! NOD IN KNOWING! ….cause that is what we moms do!
You’re in my thoughts through this next transition.
❤️
Joan
Thank you, Joan. <3