Sitting Alone At Graduation

I Filled the Room Anyway

Sitting alone at your graduation trying to love loudly enough for an entire family

Last night I sat alone in the aisle at your graduation wearing a black suit and holding my phone so tightly in my hands that at times I realised I could barely feel my fingers.

You see what other people didn’t know but me and you knew, was that I was there for our whole beautiful family, on my own, for you. I was mum, dad, granny and grandad, your little brothers.

I was our whole family.

All around me were lovely families, with grandparents, brothers and sisters, all watching on for the child they loved who, just like you, was graduating. They saved seats for each other; scarves and bags left down as markers of family who would come to join their celebration.

I had no seat to save or fill, just my own. Just one. Just me.

Maybe you wondered why every time you looked over, from the choir, why I would catch your beautiful eyes and smile back at you. My heart and eyes were bursting. I wanted to make sure anytime you looked out into the crowd you would see me, and I would beam in your direction with the power, energy and love of generations of our family.

It was just me there for you and I wanted to be enough for you, to make you feel so proud of yourself, feel all the love in the room I brought with me, and just maybe see yourself, how I see you. I never wanted you to feel that you just had mom there. I was trying to be everyone in our family, all at once for you.

At home, your gorgeous little brothers were being settled down for the evening, being dressed for bed and helped off to sleep by granny and your daddy. The boys are getting so big and tall now, all almost 6 feet of love each.

Other people maybe did not know but we knew that all your brothers have high support needs and they would have so loved to have seen you walk across the stage to see you graduate, but we also knew that it would be too much for them and they needed to be home with two people to support them, granny and daddy.

Sometimes one child walks across a stage into adulthood while another child needs two people at home helping the world feel safe enough to fall asleep.

Now and again, I noticed people looking in my direction, perhaps wondering who the blond woman dressed in black, sitting on her own was. They chatted to each other, shook hands across chairs with people in front or behind them.

I sat facing forward, holding my phone for company. I had no one to chat to or shakes hands with. I had my gorgeous girl at the top of the room, sitting in the choir waiting for the graduation to begin.

I hoped the love that was bursting in my heart for you reached yours across the busy hall. I whispered “That’s my girl” under my breath now and again because there was nobody beside me to say it to. I am and I was so proud as I beamed at you across the busy hall.

When the moment came, your name was called and you walked across the stage, I saw not just you graduate but also you walk away from your childhood, closing the door on 18 years and walking into the next life stage.

I thought to myself, please God let me live if life allows for as long as possible, so I can always be here for my gorgeous girl for as long as she needs me.

I thought about your tiny fingers wrapped around mine when you were small.

It made me think about the school runs and packed lunches, spins in the blue car, and exhausted nights where I wondered if I was failing all of you in different ways all at once.

There was a moment during the ceremony where you caught my eye and smiled directly at me. A happy sad type of a smile that told me you were proud of yourself but also sad that your school life was now at an end.

All I could think in that moment was that I needed to reach across the busy hall to give you the biggest hug and kiss, help you feel how endlessly loved you are. I wanted the love bursting in my heart for you to drown out every visible absence in the room.

When the ceremony ended families naturally folded back into one another. Crowds gathered around tables of food and drinks and photographs while conversations filled every corner of the hall.

I found you and gave you the biggest kiss and hug from everyone in our family who could not be there standing with us. Everyone in our family so proud of you. Me, the emblem at your graduation representing everyone who loves and adores you.

And then I left, because I wanted you to remain eighteen years old for the rest of the evening instead of becoming responsible for me standing alone beside you.

I wanted you to walk into adulthood carrying happiness instead of emotional guilt.

So, I walked back to the black car alone, carrying the tiny videos of your graduation in my phone like sacred little artefacts proving we survived long enough to reach this moment.

Driving home with sore wet eyes, I thought of all the strong mothers who attend alone the graduations, the life moments, for their children. Carrying whole families with them silently, trying to fill up spaces while standing alone.

It made me think that just maybe, strength looks like one woman sitting alone in an aisle whispering “That’s my girl” to herself while trying to fill an entire room with love.

I tried my best to fill that room with every part of my heart and soul for you.

I hope I did enough.

I love you now and forever more.

Mom