Tomorrow marks two significant milestones for me. One is that I will witness my beautiful, sweet, brilliant, funny and genuinely remarkable baby girl "graduate" from elementary school. The other is that tomorrow would have been my Father's 69th birthday. Both bring me to tears just thinking about them.
I have attempted to prepare myself for these events, but even as I type this, I am reduced to a sniveling snotty mess. I am not sure why the thought of my baby moving on to middle school has affected me so profoundly. It is not solely because it means that she is growing up and there's not a danged thing I can do about it. Don't get me wrong, that bothers me immensely, but that is not the only reason. But the real reason seems intangible... inexplicable. Is it because I know that there are challenges and difficultly on the horizon for her? That there are going to be lessons that she will need to learn that I simply cannot teach? Is it because I can no longer fix all the boo boos with a Mommy's kiss? I do look forward to continuing to watch her grow and develop into a beautiful young woman. I will always do the most that I can do to give her every opportunity and all the support that she needs to fulfill all of her limitless potential. When you meet someone, get starry eyed, fall in love and decide to have a baby, no one tells you about this part of being a Mother. Yes, midnight feedings are hard. Yes, changing diapers is hard. But no one tells you how hard it is to suddenly turn around and be confronted with pomp and ceremonious proof that your little baby is growing up.
If my Father were here, he would most certainly be sitting with us tomorrow for this graduation from elementary school. He would clap and smile and be just as proud as any Grandfather in that crowd could be. And he would say that watching it would be a wonderful birthday present. I miss him tremendously. There is still a vast chasm of grief and sadness at his loss. There are not many moments of the day that are not tinted with the color of that sorrow. I wish that he were still here to celebrate his birthday. I would make him fettuccine alfredo, Mom would make a cake, the kids would decorate it and light the candles. He would blow them out and probably wish for something selfless and for his family. We would stand in the car port and watch the babies run back and forth and remark at how amazing they are and he would scoop them each up and give them kisses and try to make them laugh. And they would. And I would give anything in the world to be able to hear that sound tomorrow. Because birthdays around here are about family. So tomorrow instead of all that, our family with gather in the chapel where Dad's ashes are kept safe and we will wish him a very, very Happy Birthday.
I will blow a candle out tomorrow in honor of my Dad's birthday and hope all his wishes for our family come true, starting with a certain baby girl's fifth grade graduation.
