Shane is Independent.
Yesterday, with Pomp and Circumstance playing, I watched Shane walk to his seat for his high school graduation ceremony. Normally, I would try not to cry – but in this case, I didn’t feel like crying.
At first I thought, I’m just happy for him to be out of that school. I’m not fond of the new high school principal, who treats these nearly full-grown adults like they’re in elementary school. And I was happy that virtual learning appears to be behind us. So I am, indeed, happy for him to be done with high school.
I did cry a little when the commencement speaker – Shane’s favorite teacher – spoke. The teacher is moving to Singapore, and it breaks my heart to see him go.
But as Shane strolled across that stage, I found myself bursting with joy and pride instead of emotionally sobbing. And my calm revolved mostly around Shane just being Shane. I wasn’t crying because … I know that Shane will be completely fine after high school.
Shane has been choosing his own clothes since he was a toddler. He didn’t like all of Dylan’s hand-me-downs; he preferred a more professional attire. In elementary school, while I drove Dylan to private school, Shane got himself up, showered and dressed, made himself breakfast and prepared himself for school every day. He’s been doing his own laundry since middle school. During the pandemic, thanks to my new relationship with food, Shane started making all three meals for himself. And after working through his vision processing therapy in first grade, Shane never needed any help with his school work. He prioritized it, completed his homework on his own, and didn’t even ask for my help with large projects.
In other words, Shane hasn’t needed me to help him with anything for a very long time. He certainly has his share of issues, but Shane is independent in both thought and action.
I read somewhere that when a dog cries at the window as you leave, it’s not because he wants to go with you – although he does want to go. It’s because he thinks he needs to go with you, or you’ll be lost. You won’t know how to find your way back without him. You won’t know what to do while you’re out. Pack animals are big believers in needing the entire pack to be together in order to accomplish things.
I thought about my dog, Xena, yesterday during the ceremony. Xena would watch us drive away with the most perplexed look on her face. Why would you – how could you – leave without me? She thought she was in charge, that we needed her for every moment of every day. So when we left, she would break down and cry.
But with Shane sitting amidst the rows of other black-and-orange caps and gowns in Washington D.C., I knew he was going to be fine without me. He’s going to be out of the madness of immature high school students, and finally in school with like-minded peers. He’s been preparing himself for college since he was old enough to know what it meant.
I will miss Shane like crazy in Wisconsin. I will want to talk to him every single day, to hear how it’s going, to see how he’s doing, to know what he’s thinking. But I’m just so excited for him to go to Lawrence University. He’s going to grow, shine, thrive there.
And when he needs me, and sometimes even when he doesn’t, he will call.
So at graduation, mostly I smiled. It was that kind of moment.