It went too fast. It always does.
Today is the last day of winter break and my daughter, Kari, is heading back to West Virginia University. She returns with a solid 4.0 GPA in her major and minor. Ryan would be so proud! What’s so different about this one is it is her last one ever. In four months — almost to the day — she will be walking down the aisle to accept her diploma. Something that was denied to my son because of the wrath of Austin Vantrease and Jonathan May (both of Newark, Delaware).
I’m already worrying how we’ll pull it off to attend her graduation. Will either Sue or I need to miss it to stay back with Ryan? Will it be similar to her high school graduation where I watched it from a hospital room as it streamed over the internet? And, if we are able to figure out a way to take Ryan, how will the logistics come together? The planning for this outing is monumental.
Then there’s the things that nobody would think. Will the applause repeatedly startle Ryan? What would we do if he needs suctioning during the ceremony? The list just goes on and on.
I guess I’m more than worried about that day… I’m scared.
Sure, it’s one of those times when the family should all be together. A day of celebration and doting. All the pomp and circumstance a person can tolerate. We should not be constantly worried about creating a scene. We should have the freedom to spend the night beforehand and take our daughter out to dinner afterwards. Eh, it’s just not possible.
No sense wishing for the impossible.