I promised myself I would be honest on here. I repeatedly told myself that this would be my arena to share the things I cannot easily verbalize. Who knew keeping my word to myself could be so hard? So here we go then…
I have 44 days until I graduate from Warner University. 44 days until I put on that drowning black gown, hideous hat, and walk down the aisle to accept a black leather folder with a piece of paper saying they will mail my real diploma to me. It took my 6 years to get here. You wanna know something, though? I’m not even excited. I try not to think about it. It doesn’t even really mean much to me.
Let me guess what you’re thinking: Why? After all these years, how could you not be super excited?
Why? I’ll tell you why I can’t think about this day without feeling like a sad, sappy mess. This big, monumental day when I should be celebrating loses its meaning when I remember that there is a high chance my parents won’t be able to be there. Don’t misunderstand me. I understand why they might not be able to make it and I’m not mad; it just makes me want to cry. It’s simply another reminder that they live oh so far away and it’s just another event that will pass without them being a part of it. If you know my folks, don’t talk to them about this. They already feel bad enough. I’m not writing this to cause more guilt or pain. I just needed to say it. I needed to deal with it because I have a tendency to just push it all down. So this is me dealing with it. They know I want them there. I know they want to be there. There’s still a chance they might be there, but I’m not getting my hopes up.
I’m going to tie another topic to this post that kind of connects. Last night I was part of a conversation that left me with a lot to think about. The three people I was talking to are all grandparents. They were bonding by talking about their frustrations with how their kids use their grandkids as pawns to get free babysitting out of these grandparents. I understood their frustration, but it still upset me. I might not be a parent yet or a grandparent, but I hate it when people live minutes away from their family and don’t know how to cherish it. I would kill to have my family close enough that I could even be a babysitting option. Instead of complaining about it all, I just wish they would at least be a little grateful to be able to see them on a regular basis. I see my niece twice a year. She’s already 4. I’ve missed every birthday, every pre-school play, and every hospital stay. I missed her first steps, her first words, and simply having the ability to play with her. I barely know her. If I had nothing else to do, I would gladly love to have the opportunity to babysit her.
Alright, there it is. That’s my transparency…well at least the start of it. There’s a lot more going on in my brain but I have to be able to mull it all over before I can share it.