A Single Parent’s Perspective for
Friday, October 31st, 2014
“There is a good reason they call these ceremonies 'commencement
exercises'. Graduation is not the end, it's the beginning.” Orrin Hatch
It came and went
without much fanfare.
I knew that it
was June and that she was studying for final exams, but all of a sudden, it was
August and we were making arrangements for her ‘moving into the residence’ day
and the beginning of her post-secondary career.
Post-secondary? Wha?
It’s difficult
to frame a new phase of life in your mind when there really hasn’t been any
kind of ‘official’ end to the one that has drawn to a close.
Her (old) high
school holds its graduation ceremony in late fall, and so there were no ‘Happy Graduation’
or ‘Congratulations on your Graduation’ cards.
No grad party.
No ‘Wow, that
went fast!’ celebration with her friends.
Summer seemed to
start and then it was suddenly over.
I felt bad.
When her sister
graduated from high school, there was the sense that everything followed a
logical order through to completion; final exams, report card, graduation
ceremony. There were gifts and cards, lots of hugs, a going-away party.
Not this time
around. Not for her.
I felt bad.
She never said
anything about the lack of fanfare when she left for university; there were far
more immediate and important things on her mind.
As her mom, I
knew it would only be a matter of time before she came to the realization that
she was still teetering between both worlds.
Caught between a
graduation and a new place.
‘Project Love
Letter’ was my way of letting her know that she wasn’t as alone as I knew she
was going to start feeling after the ‘university honeymoon’ was over and she
was settled into her new life.
Born from feelings
of sadness and guilt, Project Love Letter took on a life of its own.
The premise was
simple: Create a care package of letters from people in her life that she
wouldn’t expect to be hearing from, especially while away from university.
Everyone I asked
was more than happy to participate. I even had a couple of ‘partners in crime’
(THANK YOU to Miss Lane at North Park Collegiate and Mr. Bannister from Banbury
Heights) who accepted the blank note cards & envelopes that I dropped off
at the reception desk, and passed them out to other teachers for me.
There were notes
from grade school teachers and caretakers.
High school
teachers and even a departing Vice-Principal took the time to put pen to paper
and offer words of encouragement, congratulations, and wishes for a bright
future.
Family and
friends from as far as Nova Scotia and eastern Ontario sent cards through the
mail.
Our next-door
neighbours wrote short letters and their two children drew pictures and
proclaimed that they missed her already.
Her employers and co-workers contributed.
Her hair stylist.
Our pastors.
My own friends from work – many who have known her
from the day she was born – took part.
There were brightly-coloured envelopes from those who
went and picked out their own cards.
There were small, handwritten notes on little pieces
of paper.
There were notecards and even an elegant piece of
homemade stationary.
All totaled, more than thirty messages love and
support and encouragement were placed in a shallow gift box and tied with a
bright ribbon.
And then, I waited.
And waited.
There were several times during September that I
contemplated mailing out the package or giving it to her when she came home to
visit.
But, I didn’t.
It’s not the right time, I remember thinking to myself.
The right time came soon enough.
We talked almost all the way back up to Waterloo that
Sunday night at the beginning of October. She was feeling conflicted inside; a
mixture of loneliness and uncertainty and unlabeled sadness. We unloaded the
car and carted the bag of freshly-laundered clothes, the care package full of
juice & water bottles & snacks, the school books and more into the
residence, and I sat quietly on the bed in her dorm room while she unpacked and
her friends popped in and out to say hello.
When it came time for me to leave, I took the
now-wrapped box and set it on her bed near her pillow.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Oh…just something for you to open after I
leave,” I answered with a smile.
She looked at me.
“You’re weird,” she said with a straight
face.
“I know,” I said right back. “So are you,
so we’re even.”
I don’t think I had even made it to the
highway entrance to go back home when the phone rang in my car. I knew it was
her before I hit the answer button for my Bluetooth.
“You’re so mean!” she sputtered through
her tears.
I laughed.
“How many have you read?” I asked.
“Just yours and one other one so far,” she
answered. “It’s just what I needed. You have no idea, Mom….” Her voice trailed off.
Oh yes I do, I thought to myself.
“I love you too,” I said quietly to her.
*******
Ralph Waldo Emerson once said that what lies behind us, and what
lies before us, are small matters compared to what lies within us. Project Love
Letter was about reminding my daughter that although she may not be at home,
home is with her. From her grade eight teacher to the young man who cuts her
hair, from her employers to her circle of friends, from her family and
neighbors to people on the periphery of her day-to-day life, there is a whole
group of people who believe in her, love and support her.
In the movie ‘The Help’, one of the characters is constantly lifting
the spirit of her young charges by telling them: “You is kind You is smart. You
is important.”
You is all those things, kidlet o’ mine. All of them and more.
I believe in you. I know you will do great things. You have the
heart and the soul to be the change you want to see in the world.
Tomorrow is your ‘official’ graduation from high school, but as far
as I’m concerned, you’re already flying.
English author, Neil Gaiman, wrote: “"Now go, and make
interesting mistakes, make amazing mistakes, make glorious and fantastic
mistakes. Break rules. Leave the world more interesting for your being
here."
As your friend and mother, let me assure you that you have already
done so for me…
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