Editorial & Commentary
Let The Waterworks Begin
By Pam Reichert
OK, I ADMIT it. I'm one of those sappy, weepy moms that cries on her kid's prom day. My daughter said to me, 'Mom, this is supposed to be a happy day,' and it is - for her. For me, I look at her and see this amazingly beautiful young woman standing before me while behind her on the fridge is the picture of me holding her just moments after she was born. That's when the tears began.
They subsided for a while in the flurry of pre-prom emergencies such as the 'I spilled makeup on my dress' disaster and the 'I don'tt have a purse' fiasco. I was even able to hold off the tears during the first set of pictures at home. But then we went to meet up with her friends and take pictures of all of them as a group. As I gazed at them all looking so grown up, something occurred to me: I've known these kids most of their lives. Of the 20 or so young adults that stood there, most of them have been in and out of our lives and our house for years and now that's coming to an abrupt end. Soon they will all go off to college and we will no longer see those energetic, optimistic young faces gracing our living room couch or at our kitchen table. And I realized at that moment that while there will be this huge hole in my heart for my daughter when she goes off to college, I will miss all of them, too. I am grieving not only my daughter but all these kids who we have come to love over the years.
Let the waterworks begin.
Life is cruel, there's no doubt about that. Oh, I will relish hearing the stories in the years to come about how this one became a doctor, and that one got married and so and so had a baby. But it will never, ever be the same. They will have their own lives that will no longer be entwined with ours. The days of sleepovers and playdates and feuds and secrets are over. The days of having kids for dinner, and making popcorn, and renting movies is done. The days of picking them up at the mall, and shopping for prom dresses, and listening to blaring rock music in my car has waned. It's all done now - they are soon off, away from us. And I am incredibly sad.
So don't blame me for my tears. I can't help it. This day was inevitable, I realize that. But it doesn't make it any less painful. From now on, the main focus of my daughter's life will not be home and parents. It will be her future. It's as it should be. And I will try, with my best face, to wave cheerfully as these kids pull away in their cars and start off on their wonderful new lives. I am excited for them.
And I will get on with the next phase in my own life. But, just for now, allow me to be that sappy, weepy mom who embarrasses her kid. It's all that's left of her childhood - except for those many, many beautiful memories I hold close to my heart."
Pam Reichert lives in Middletown.
