Dear Parents of Seniors,

 

Fresh from the Reunion Luncheon during which we welcomed your daughters into the fold of a strong alumnae embrace, I felt compelled to address this Vantage Points to you, the parents of these luminous, full-of-promise young women who are mere weeks away from graduation. I’m always struck at this time of the year by the comings and goings in schools: new kindergarten wee ones are getting fitted on the seventh floor for plaid jumpers larger than they are, while our seniors are snatching anything imprinted with “Spence” from the Boutique as talisman for the dorm room that lives only in their imagination. The years really do leapfrog over one another, and this is a tender time, indeed.

And my thoughts turn to you parents, recognizing that no matter the contours, your families will shift into something different with their departures. Less food will be eaten. Her spot at the kitchen table or on that too-soft sofa will be empty or, better yet, assumed by a younger sibling claiming the landscape of seniority. Maybe there is a pile of “take-with-me’s” already commandeering a corner somewhere. And you begin to imagine a quotidian life without her. Your conversations have likely shifted to something different, perhaps indefinable, but absolutely different. There’s already the feel of change, and this is, of course, normal and even worth an honoring. As poet Ellen Voigt reminds us, “to loathe change is to loathe life.”

With certain irony notwithstanding, this space you’re now entering (if not already in full residency) holds a grace about it that shouldn’t be missed. Your daughter is getting ready to be the storyteller, the bearer of news she’ll bring to you, the pioneer reporting back to the mayor. Less than a contradiction, this bittersweet time fulfills the “up” in “raising them up,” although I have always thought that the right adverb there is “out” not “up.” It’s more accurate, and it might actually prepare us better as parents. The grace part comes with the quiet knowing that this is supposed to happen.

But here’s the really good part of all of this. You, too, get to redefine yourself. After you think about what you need to let go of (and this is truly worth a deep think), you can then contemplate what you can add: this time for yourself. I was reminded of this recently when a mother shared with me the story that her daughter, the last to leave, was worried about them because neither she nor her sister would be living at home any longer. Would they suffer too much, she wondered? Her mother turned to her and said, “Honey, we played well before your sister and you arrived, and we will definitely play well again when you leave.” Redefinition.

I know all of this is easier to write about from the distance I share with parents whose children have long gone, but whether you are now tiptoeing around this impending change, not even talking about it or making it the center of every conversation, remember a few important things. This is never about a transitory relationship; it’s about a dynamic one, and the sense of wonder around these marvelous young women only deepens with time. You’re in for such wonderful times ahead as they move into the lives for which you have provided such strong preparation. You’ve made sure that they are ready, slowly, to move away from dependency on others, including yourself. Now’s the time to tell them “good job,” and then to whisper those same words to yourself.