Last weekend our baby girl graduated from college.
She walked. She crossed the stage, gripped the hand of the President of the University, smiled, grabbed her diploma, and stepped down. Then she walked back to her seat, past us, where her very proud Daddy shot numerous pictures of her smiling face.
During the 2.5 hour ceremony images from her childhood streamed through my thoughts like a precious chronology of her life to date. Her absolutely disarming smile. Her baby coos, and belly laughs. Her first steps, then words..so many words as they tumbled from her tiny mouth. Her love for her brother, and his care for her. He protected her fiercely from harm, but always did his best to conceal his efforts lest she actually know how much he loved her. Her soccer, her passion, her thoughts on ever more complex life issues. Her love for touch, for hugs, for head tickles and snuggling. Her passion for competition. Her academic development. Her deep compassion and natural nurturing instincts, her kindness. Her announcement of her desire to play Division I soccer in college. Her accepting an offer at Providence College. Her tragic knee injury, surgery and recovery. Moving her into her dorm. Her bravery in the face of incredible academic and athletic demands. Her growth, maturation, development during her college years. Her announcement of accepting a job in NYC with a big hospital. Her smile and hugs when we picked her up for dinner last Friday night. These and thousands more are images that continued to flow through my consciousness as the day wore on, and which have continued to appear like surprise reminders of life so well lived so far, with so much promise for a fulfilling future.
After graduation we and many other Providence College families gathered on a patio at the nearby Hilton and took hundreds and hundreds of record shots of the grads, the grads and their fams, the grads and their friends.
We headed to Mediterraneo, a favorite sumptuous Italian restaurant on Federal Hill, where we celebrated. We toasted. We ate. We reminisced. I only cried once, and it was just a little bit. Daughter said my emotions were embarrassing her, and to get a grip, so I did. Kind of. In the days since, though, I have allowed myself to cry a little as I realize the enormity of this. I can't help myself, and am told that the grieving process that accompanies the elation of successes such as these is healing and bittersweet. Releasing the emotions is key, and I am trying to do that in small yet intense moments.
We hustled to the airport to take my husband to meet his flight. He had to leave for a big event at his school the next day, one that couldn't be missed or he would have gladly missed it. He made his flight.
Daughter and I headed back to her apartment, where we gathered up some libations and headed to her boyfriend's house for a party. Dressed to the nines we trekked down hilly streets, smiles on our faces and a feeling of lightness that may have been due to the wine at lunch, severe sleep deprivation, or possibly from the elation of a job well done on her part.
A job very well done.
Cheers, Daughter. You are truly amazing, and we cannot wait to see where life takes you next.
She walked. She crossed the stage, gripped the hand of the President of the University, smiled, grabbed her diploma, and stepped down. Then she walked back to her seat, past us, where her very proud Daddy shot numerous pictures of her smiling face.
During the 2.5 hour ceremony images from her childhood streamed through my thoughts like a precious chronology of her life to date. Her absolutely disarming smile. Her baby coos, and belly laughs. Her first steps, then words..so many words as they tumbled from her tiny mouth. Her love for her brother, and his care for her. He protected her fiercely from harm, but always did his best to conceal his efforts lest she actually know how much he loved her. Her soccer, her passion, her thoughts on ever more complex life issues. Her love for touch, for hugs, for head tickles and snuggling. Her passion for competition. Her academic development. Her deep compassion and natural nurturing instincts, her kindness. Her announcement of her desire to play Division I soccer in college. Her accepting an offer at Providence College. Her tragic knee injury, surgery and recovery. Moving her into her dorm. Her bravery in the face of incredible academic and athletic demands. Her growth, maturation, development during her college years. Her announcement of accepting a job in NYC with a big hospital. Her smile and hugs when we picked her up for dinner last Friday night. These and thousands more are images that continued to flow through my consciousness as the day wore on, and which have continued to appear like surprise reminders of life so well lived so far, with so much promise for a fulfilling future.
After graduation we and many other Providence College families gathered on a patio at the nearby Hilton and took hundreds and hundreds of record shots of the grads, the grads and their fams, the grads and their friends.
We headed to Mediterraneo, a favorite sumptuous Italian restaurant on Federal Hill, where we celebrated. We toasted. We ate. We reminisced. I only cried once, and it was just a little bit. Daughter said my emotions were embarrassing her, and to get a grip, so I did. Kind of. In the days since, though, I have allowed myself to cry a little as I realize the enormity of this. I can't help myself, and am told that the grieving process that accompanies the elation of successes such as these is healing and bittersweet. Releasing the emotions is key, and I am trying to do that in small yet intense moments.
We hustled to the airport to take my husband to meet his flight. He had to leave for a big event at his school the next day, one that couldn't be missed or he would have gladly missed it. He made his flight.
Daughter and I headed back to her apartment, where we gathered up some libations and headed to her boyfriend's house for a party. Dressed to the nines we trekked down hilly streets, smiles on our faces and a feeling of lightness that may have been due to the wine at lunch, severe sleep deprivation, or possibly from the elation of a job well done on her part.
A job very well done.
Cheers, Daughter. You are truly amazing, and we cannot wait to see where life takes you next.
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