It is high school graduation season, and I am ready for it. I have no children who are seniors this year, so for the most part, I get to sit back, relax, and take it all in.

However, my sister and I have discovered that we are much more weepy about the other’s children’s momentous occasions:

I cried at my nephew’s graduation. I wiped away tears while I sat on the football field and performed my duties as the high school principal during the COVID spring.

I got emotional at the school beauty pageant last Friday night, seeing my niece, her friends, and other students who had grown up before my eyes.

But when it’s our own kids, we are often wrapped up in the after-graduation party or senior trip packing, or else we’re all keyed up hosting the forty-one members of the family who have come to see little Abby get her diploma.

They hoot and holler and whistle when she crosses that stage as if she just crossed the finish line at Talladega, checkered flag waving in the backdraft of exhaust and burned rubber.  

Some of these family members might then be camping out in your yard for the week, also Talladega-style, because Memorial Day weekend is upon us this time of year, and folks only have so many vacation days.

They’re just there for the party.

The parents and family members who are more directly involved in their own children’s graduation are sometimes more distracted, occupied, or burned out with all the planning. They’re doing their best to roll across that finish line too, except it’s more like a tire that’s come off on the final turn, skidding through the grass in a smoky haze and bouncing along before hitting the wall, hard.

They’re just ready to be done, and they’re glad that the race is finally over.

For they got up early to make chocolate gravy and biscuits for the final senior breakfast. 

They made it through senior pictures, prom planning, and scholarship applications.

They mailed the invitations and have the thank you notes ready for their kids to fill with handwritten messages of gratitude.

Right, parents? You’ve made it this far successfully, so don’t disappoint us by doing your kids’ graduation thank you notes for them.

They bought the senior T-shirts, the cap and gown, and the new shirt and tie or dress and heels.

They attended awards days, sports banquets, band banquets, and academic nights.

They worked in the concession stands, scrubbing grills, stocking coolers, and dumping the remnants of the crockpots of boiled peanuts in the grass next to the fence.

They attended meetings: career planning meetings, IEP and 504 meetings, scheduling meetings, discipline meetings, health plan meetings, and attendance meetings, either because they were required to or because they wanted to stay as involved in their children’s lives as possible.

They’ve been to every parent-teacher conference night for the past thirteen years.

They signed report cards and progress reports.

They brought cupcakes for birthday parties.

They packed daily snacks for their kids.

They went through their kids’ backpacks every afternoon, delighting in smiley face stickers for good behavior.

They sent them to school on the first day of kindergarten.

Now they’re closing it down on the last day of their senior year.

And somewhere inside, they’re hoping it was all enough. They might doubt their efforts. They might wish they could have done things differently, and maybe some of them should have.

If we could, we would send the sands back up through the hourglass to the moment in time we want to change.

We all have those moments.

Except for aunts and uncles. We are perfect. We’ve always been the spoilers, the good guys, and the fun ones.

So let us cry, we “extra” relatives, or teachers, or friends. We will weep for you, parents, for we love your kids as if they are our own. We’ve just had the blessing of a little distance from the deep emotional involvement that comes with parenting a graduating student.

We can enjoy the party more, and that involves letting the tears roll.

But we also cry because we empathize with you. We feel for you. Your baby is growing up, and while we know that this is the nature of life, it doesn’t always make it any easier.

It’s okay for you to sit with your glazed expressions. You’ve had a lot on you, and you’re having to push it all down to keep it from overwhelming you, along with the horde of family members you’ve got to cook for this weekend.

You’ve shed tears all year long, celebrating the last “firsts,” and the time for the final reflection has come.

And when you decompress from this hectic week, and the relatives have gone home, and the dishes are all dried and put away, the waterworks will flow freely. 

But by then, your kids might have roped an aunt or uncle into “helping” them with the thank-you notes.