To Parents of New College Graduates: I Know Exactly How You Must Be Feeling Right Now

If you are the parent of a newly minted college graduate, believe me when I say this: I know exactly how you must be feeling right now. I know, for example, how on the one hand it feels like just yesterday that you were trying to help your child squeeze two semesters’ worth of comforts and belongings into half of a 120-square-foot dorm room while fighting back sobs. I know how, on the other, it feels like it’s been a couple of lifetimes since your kid suddenly was back living at home and driving you crazy while we all were waiting out a global pandemic.

I know — if your parents are still living and were able to get to the commencement ceremony — what it felt like when it dawned on you how mind-blowing it must be for them to be at their kid’s kid’s college graduation; what it felt like when it occurred to you that it’ll probably be just a few more blinks of an eye before you’re at the same point in your life that they are now; what it felt like when the thought crossed your mind that there’s a chance (small for some of you but big for others) this might have been the last major event of your child’s life that one or both of your parents will be able to attend. And I know that if you wept once on the day of your son or daughter’s graduation, you wept twice, maybe even three or four times. Or, if you didn’t cry, I know it’s because you were trying really, really hard not to. More than anything, however, I know you are filled with an overpowering mixture of both worry and hope.

WORRY AND HOPE

I know all of this because my oldest son — our handsom, intelligent, not-so-little-anymore baby boy, who turned 23 in March and, therefore, is on the verge of knowing what it feels like to be out of touch with teenagers (if he doesn’t already) — graduated from college this past May.

Because, whereas after high school graduation our kids’ next four years were at least broadly visualize-able because we knew they were committed to spending them in college, now there are more forks for them to take than they’d find at a convenience store. Of course, hope and worry, as they pertain to our children, are pretty much the same things. For instance, I worry about the fact that our son graduated with a degree in a field he’s not positive is the right fit for him, one that A.I. soon may take over. But I hope that, in any event, some of the lessons he’s learned in those classes will be applicable in whatever career he does wind up in. I worry that if he goes to grad school, he’ll be right back in this same place two years from now and many thousands of dollars poorer.

I worry because I don’t feel like the part-time job he’s currently doing will provide him with enough income to support himself financially once we stop paying his rent at the end of July, but I hope something better comes along — and that he seizes on it. I worry that after we take him off our payroll he’ll run up a bunch of credit card debt at a time when running up a bunch of credit card debt is about as wise as putting every penny you own into cryptocurrency, but I hope he’s smarter about money — if you’ll pardon the pun — than we’ve given him credit for. I worry about him living with friends who are still in college and still living the college lifestyle, with too many afternoons spent by the pool or at the beach and too many nights spent crammed into bars drinking slushees made from Red Bull and alcohol. But I hope his life always includes friends who enjoy being with him and activities that take his mind off of life’s stresses.

I worry about his current relationship. His girlfriend is in the same boat. But I hope that they stay together, they are perfect for each other. I worry sometimes though that life will simply get in the way.

I worry that he will be like me and move far away. I worry about us drifting apart as time wears on. I hope we never do. We won’t but still, I worry.

COMING FULL CIRCLE

But, probably because I spent the whole week leading up to his graduation talking to my parents, I’ve also been thinking about the worries and the hopes that they must have had when I graduated from college. That they must have had when I got my first job. When I initially quit the first college I went to. When I moved out of state to go to an art school. When I moved to NYC to go to another art school. When I got engaged. When I got married. When I settled in a state far away from them. Became a mom. Left my career for a time to be a mom. And so on. I’ve made so many mistakes. I’ve behaved like an idiot, been a bad friend, been a bad wife, screwed up at work, disappointed others. And that’s just since turning 50. At the same time, I’d like to think that I’ve also made the world at least a slightly better place for those around me. Written a few stories that have made a positive difference in strangers’ lives. Produced a few comedy sketches that made people both laugh and think (at the same time.) Created and cultivated a couple of social circles that never existed before. Organized family trips that would have been beyond my wildest dreams as a child. Made my husband and both my sons and my closest family and friends a priority when they deserved to be made a priority, and given them words of encouragement when they’ve needed words of encouragement.

Even more critically than anything I’ve done, though, is this: The people I love have also loved me, steadfastly. Supported me. Stood by me. Believed in me. In spite of my flaws. As for our son? Look, I fully recognize that as he moves on through life, he will be a flawed human being. Just like I was, and am. I’ll hope … yet he’ll still manage to make mistakes. I’ll worry … yet he’ll still find a way to be successful and to bring joy and happiness to others. But through it all, his mom and dad will continue to love him, to support him, to stand by him, to believe in him.

And if he’s fortunate enough someday — perhaps just a few blinks of an eye from now — to be celebrating the fresh minting of his own college graduate, I’ll pull him aside and tell him to believe me when I say this: I know exactly, Jake, how you must be feeling right now.

Want more? While it was probably enough to just say “good luck” and “I love you” to my son on his graduation day, there was actually more that I wanted to say to him, and you can read about that here.