In the blink of an eye

I was admonished by the youngest for not crying during her graduation ceremony last week.

Well, I did choke up a few times, but the tears weren’t dripping down my cheeks.

I don’t think I’ve fully processed that my years as a high school mum are over.

It has all happened in the blink of an eye.

One minute she was graduating from primary school looking like this …

The next she was graduating from high school looking like this …

It feels like yesterday that I was chasing my children around the playground as they squealed with delight.

Now they tower over me and are making their independent way in the world.

That well-worn phrase – “The days are long but the years are short” – is so bloody true.

I would give anything to be able to step back in time for an hour to chase them again or build sandcastles together at the beach or hold their hands as I walked them to school.

You don’t know when the last time will be that your child will reach their arms up to be carried … the last time they will hold your hand … the last time you will give them a hug goodnight in bed.

But I knew it was the last time I’d sit in that school hall.

And I was glad to sit beside my ex – mutually adoring our youngest child. I feel so sad for divorced parents who can’t do that.

We made this gorgeous creature together and our love for her will mean we will always be connected. I would rather that connection be a positive one.

As we sat together during the ceremony we noted that neither of us remembered our last week of school being the hectic whirl it is now. Do you? I don’t even recall parents being there for our final assembly. Were they?

I have a vague memory of a muck-up day, but I don’t think I was a participant, as I didn’t run with the cool crowd.

The youngest went to endless year 12 events including a trivia night, a lunch and a clap out.

The girls even wore caps and gowns for their graduation and both parents were expected to attend the ceremony. Many siblings were there too.

I was told by the youngest that I couldn’t wear pants or sneakers. (Her rules not the school’s.) My ex was told he had to wear a suit.

The youngest insisted that I present her with a big bunch of flowers (with the specification that none of them were to be dyed) after the graduation, which required me to clutch them in my arms for the two-hour ceremony.

There were some lovely speeches and a talented student sang the most remarkable version of Kate Miller-Heidke’s “Last day on earth”.

And, because we live in 2023, all 150 students received a “prize”. If they didn’t come first in anything they were awarded a certificate for “persistence” “dedication” or “outstanding commitment” to learning. I still have no idea if they were awarded arbitrarily or with purpose.

Each student was required to walk up on stage and accept their certificate separately, which took a very, very, very long time.

But finally it was over and there was a morning tea and a flurry of photos, then both my ex and I had to dash off due to work issues.

We regrouped with the parents of the youngest’s friends for pizza that night.

Again, the youngest insisted that we both attend. And again it was wonderful that there is no awkwardness between my ex and I.

We laughed and chatted together and had a lovely night. I feel fortunate to be able to do that.

Soon we will see much less of each other. The ties that bind us will fall away. The youngest will leave Sydney and I will miss her terribly.

My ex will miss her terribly too.

The high school years are over.

The adult years begin.

Song of the day: Kate Miller-Heidke “Last day on earth”