In my wildest dreams I never thought I would be sitting in the bleachers in a college gym and be waiting for my stepson to come into the hall for his graduation. It seemed just a blink of an eye ago that I was in St. Patrick’s church watching him with his mom graduating from 8th grade.
Next to my wife and daughter in law we try to get comfortable on the hardwood and not far to my right of me my ears are filled with a oversized middle aged woman engaged in non-stop cackling that is just not to be believed. The filter on my ear is trying to blur the sounds but the only thing that will shut her oral cavity is the start of this ceremony.
My son’s biological father is somewhere near and he has claimed ‘lunch’ rights after the proceedings in his typical “grandstand” fashion. I can’t let that old wound be re-opened, as the only one to suffer will be me. And after all today is about my son’s graduation, not about how I feel.
I look sideways at my daughter in law who has been the counter-balancing agent to any of my hurt feelings over the past two years. She’s quiet, dutiful in her own way, self effacing but exhibits the strength of character when it’s called on and of course she is beautiful and I must remember to hug her sometime during the course of the day.
The cackling just kicked into 5th gear and unlike the drone of 200 mph racecars going by this woman could easily be heard over that din. Ooh the ceremony is starting and her mouth is finally shut.
As the music commences and the graduates start to parade in my eyes are being challenged as I fight back the tears of the unknowing. There is a proud feeling I am experiencing something only a father might know.
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