‘Mom, this is the most important day in my life so far.’
I am crying as I attempt to tie his tie, closely following the directions I’ve noted, with no success. Finally frustrated because we are running out of time, I send him to my neighbor, who with Parkinson’s struggles to help.
Fifth grade graduation. Six years, lives entwined, bound by friendship and hardship, tragedy and triumph, the ripple of our life reaching these children and parents. It is impossible not to remember. Just two years ago we sat in these same chairs, proud of our oldest child’s accomplishments. Though everything was lost for us, we had at least done something right together.
A second ago, a lifetime ago.
I am in awe at the resilience of the human spirit to bounce back, rise above, to reach out to touch, to celebrate the little things, be grateful. To love even when unloved, to continue on. The unfairness precariously balanced by this victory. It is a gift.
A young man, undaunted, ready to face the future with the enthusiasm to live a life fully. Our new normal. A new beginning, a new chapter, full of grace in acceptance.
And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes…for the former things are passed away.” – Revelation 21:3-4