First and last, led by God
In case you’ve not heard, we’re knee deep in graduation and party plans over here. With this, that, and the other thing rocketing around in my brain, there’s an imminent danger that my head will explode. There really is. If you take all the details that must be seen to and mix them up with very strong, gyrating, and tumultuous emotions, what you get is a dark and dangerous cocktail.
Last night was the annual Spring Concert. Here’s how I announced it on Facebook: “What: NorthWood Panthers Spring Concert (it’s Senior Night). When: Tonight, 7 P.M. Special Significance for Mother: Kid Kaboom takes the stage one last time with Dawning Generation, featuring a brand-new Lion King medley with Kid K in a starring role. Mother’s Condition: Pretty much a mess.”
He’d vibrated, that kid, coming home one day, face alight.
For days, he’d enthused about the brand-new medley; the fun, new songs they’d debut “for this show only, Mom.” For days, I knew what was coming. Why is it that “firsts” are so exciting, but “lasts” are so hard…
We walked the stage as we’d done with College Kid before, his father and I, one on either side of him. Hugging his neck, kissing his cheek, we made our way back to our seats as the other seniors and their mamas and daddies filed across. And then it came – the Senior Song.
It’s very small, but Kid Kaboom is square in the middle between the girl in the orange dress and the one in the aqua.
Curving across the stage in a semicircle, holding hands, the Seniors of 2012 sang one last song together. In mere weeks, they’d scatter, never again to meet in quite the same way. Never again to be 18, carefree, with the big, wide world at their feet. Oh, those lasts…
Swallowing hard, I watched my boy. Watched the girls in their beautiful gowns. Watched them sing, hands clasped, faces holding hope and some with sorrow.
Then it was time. Oh, how he shone, that boy. His dancing – pure joy in motion. Sheer happiness and grace; his very heart, beating in time with his flying feet and strong, quick legs. “Get Me to the Church on Time,” they sang as they kicked in a row, jumping and twirling.
I clapped. I shouted. I hooted. I grinned ’til my face split in two, watching him singing, confident, full, owning the stage with a panther-like grace. Oh, joy. And oh, sadness. Never again. Not here. Not with the rest of them.
This morning, I popped in at the school. Coming from the office, I noted that the senior display from last night’s concert was still up. Scrolling across it were the pictures of each choir senior. Names, faces, the names of their parents, their plans for the future, and a parting message for the underclassmen; there they were.
Stopping before the board, my eyes found the face of my boy. “Parents: Grant and Rhonda Schrock.” Then, “Activities (and here he listed everything he’d been involved in during his four years there).” This difficult “last”…
It was the last sentence in the next section that got me. “Future Plans: I plan to attend college and pursue a career, either in show business or as a Disney Imagineer.” And there it came.
Swallowing a lump, tears welling quick, I turned and left, holding his little brother’s hand. Oh, this was a hard “last” we were facing, but Mother knew this – he was walking with God, and it would be okay.
For all is well, and all shall be well.