This time, 18 years ago, I was sitting in my newsroom cubicle, working on a project but distracted by a nagging concern: How would I get my child to soccer practice on time?
My office was downtown, and my husband and I lived in the suburbs. Practice usually starts around 6 p.m., but I worked unpredictable hours, and traffic on the tollway is dicey.
We'll figure it out. We'll make it work.
I did have the advantage of time. I was pregnant with our first child, at least four years from registering anyone for recreation soccer.
That firstborn is now days from high school graduation, heading to Auburn University to study mechanical engineering and nuclear power systems.
When all the graduation festivities settle down, Cooper and I will start his dorm packing list in earnest. In the meantime, I've been checking off the list of intangibles that he'll need, too.
That list includes resiliency, tolerance, grace, humility, determination, compassion and flexibility. He's had ample opportunities to practice them all here, and I'm praying that those life lessons stick with him when he's far from home.
Every family has its own story of unexpected twists, disrupted plans and even tragedies.
Our story includes learning disabilities, a cancer diagnosis and death. But our story also includes hard work, silver linings and life.
When Cooper was diagnosed with dyslexia — a condition we never planned for — he adjusted.
He received daily intervention at school for two years. He received some accommodations for class work. He learned to advocate for himself. He often had to work harder than many of his peers.
He figured it out. He made it work.
He refused to be defined by a label. He continued to devour fantasy, mystery and adventure novels. He signed up for challenging courses. He asked questions. He never gave up.
There have been all kinds of opportunities to practice similar determination at home. Steve's cancer and death certainly were never part of our plan. For almost 10 years now, it's been only me, Cooper and Katie. They don't have many memories of two parents who shared housework, decision-making, driving and bedtime routines.
Instead, they have earned experience as members of a small team that cooks, cleans, walks the dog, takes out the trash and performs other duties as assigned.
We have figured it out. We have made it work.
They don't dwell on the loss. This is our normal. They have built layers of independence and empathy. They understand sacrifices and compromises.
These aren't lessons I planned, but embracing them is better than being smothered by them.
Way back in 2001, when I was worried about car seats and strollers, preschools and soccer teams, it never occurred to me to consider 2019, the year that my baby would graduate high school.
My heart couldn't have handled the conflicted emotions of celebrating this milestone while anticipating a new beginning — especially without Steve by my side.
Even now, I can't anticipate or plan for every trial that Cooper will face as a freshman living in a dorm with strangers, 751 miles from home, while taking 16 hours that include calculus, chemistry and computing for engineers.
I expect he'll have some social conflicts, struggle with a class or two, make a few poor choices and occasionally feel homesick.
He and I can keep talking through scenarios until he leaves. I'll be available via phone calls, text, FaceTime and email. But most of the preparation for this big step has already happened.
He'll provide his own rescues or seek help from trusted sources.
Perhaps the best advice I can offer him now is the reminder that we've always figured it out. We've always made it work. He's equipped for the adventures and challenges and rewards to come.
Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. She can be reached at tyradamm@gmail.com.
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| Reedy High School Baccalaureate, two weeks before graduation |
