Tears filled my eyes as time passed quickly and the line moved slowly. The year was 2016. Graduation was scheduled at 9:30am, and while I have been in line for over an hour and a half, I seemed to get nowhere. Since President Obama was the commencement speaker, his secret service had to wand every single person who entered Falcon Stadium.
Rewind to four years earlier when I dropped off my first-born child to a place he had never been and where wildfires were burning out of control – Colorado Springs. His in-processing venue even had to be changed since part of the Academy was also on fire. James had worked diligently since 8th grade to reach his goal of being accepted into the United States Air Force Academy, and I was seeing his dream become a reality.
This child I held, chastised, coached, studied with, read to, tucked in bed, and prayed with was now being dropped off at an unfamiliar place not knowing a single person. I delivered him into the hands of the mighty Air Force a thin, 6-foot tall, cute teenager, and now as I approached his graduation, I saw he had transformed into a muscular, handsome, and more intelligent man.
After the agent checked my camera bag and underneath my hat, I made it in. I had missed the faculty getting to their places, but I found my seat just in time to see the cadets’ synchronized march onto the field for the last time. After years of being yelled at, studying more than they ever had before, and pushing their bodies beyond their limits, over 800 cadets accepted their diplomas, saluted, and then shook the Commander in Chief’s hand.
The thousands of spectators cheered as the last name was called. Back in their seats, the now 2nd Lieutenants grabbed their hats and threw them into the sky as the Thunderbirds flew over with a mighty roar. The exhilaration of the event rippled throughout the audience as I wiped more tears from my eyes. My child was now trained and ready to serve our nation.
This Memorial Day, there are many who have heard the call of our nation, responded, and paid the ultimate sacrifice. I do not know the pain of losing a child in that way, but I have lost one before what seemed like her prime. The way we parents grieve for our children is differently than when we lose our parents or grandparents.
With mourning those older than we are, we grieve over the memories we shared. We reminisce of the quirks they had or poke fun at our siblings over which child was the favorite.
But for those who have lost a child, we mourn the future – the things we will never get to do with our child, the special events such as weddings for which he or she will not get to be a part. We run through the “what ifs,” the “if onlys” and “why not” that leave us with sleepless nights and tear-stained pillows.
For those Gold Star families, thank you for your loved ones’ sacrifice. We live in the greatest country in the world, and their loss was not in vain. May we all live our lives in a manner that honors the sacrifice of those men and women who gave it all.
*Photo of Sophia and James at USAFA 2016 graduation
