Page 48 - FDCC Pandemic Book

Living in a Pandemic: A Collection of Stories on Coping, Resilience & Hope
I have two children. My daughter, a member of the high school Class of 2020, and her “little” brother (the tallest in our house), who will graduate high school in 2024. When the pandemic hit, we were fully immersed in all the ceremonial rites of passage of senior year. The announcements had been ordered, the deposit placed on the rustic party barn for the party, and a college had been selected. And then, the goal posts disappeared.
The first blow came days before we were scheduled to travel to her final national swim meet. We knew that the world around us was gradually shutting down, but it seemed beyond the realm of possibility that this championship meet would be vulnerable, too. When it cancelled, the hope and excitement of what could have been simply evaporated. There would be no fun in the sun with her teammates. My little pink bundle, not so little anymore and stalking that last great age group swim, wouldn’t get it. It would have to wait.
The hits kept coming – cancelled banquets, celebrations, senior skip day, the prom (not the prom!). . . all overlaid with an extreme sense of isolation due to the mandatory quarantine. Suddenly, our very active house - with practices and events and travel that kept us coming and going constantly – was still. Suddenly, we were all grounded. The realization set in that we were not going anywhere anytime soon – this pause would remain well into the summer, stealing from us the Holy Grail . . . . taking away Graduation. Graduation! I was devastated. Well, maybe that’s a little dramatic. But, those that know me, know that I was devastated. (And, also, that I am dramatic.) It was so unfair to our Class of 2020, who had worked so hard, to be robbed of their big day.
As her would be graduation date approached, I had a revelation. In the midst of feeling so bad for my daughter, a longing for all the things she would miss – I realized that the longing was really my own. My girl was fine; the one feeling the loss was me. The pageantry of Graduation is for the parents – not those pink and blue bundles. While I can usually remember the inane details of the most insignificant events, I have absolutely no recollection of my own graduation day. I have a vague recollection of capturing a stolen moment in the processional with my bestie on a cheap 35mm camera; but I don’t really remember the ceremony. I do not remember our valedictorian or the other speakers, walking the stage, receiving my diploma or even the iconic hat toss. I have no recall of feelings of pride or accomplishment. My call back of that momentous day all those years ago is only of a generic affinity for my friends and family, and of course, optimism and excitement for the adventures ahead, especially the graduation parties to follow.
My epiphany came after my girl repeatedly told me that it was fine; she was fine. She confided that she was more upset about missing her final swim meet and not being able to achieve the peaks that she had worked so hard to hit, the loss of the optimism of that future success. She really was unaffected by forfeiting the
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