As I write this, we are getting ready for a trip that I always thought was so far off in the future, but here we are! Jillian is GRADUATING from college!!! I mean, how is this even possible that we are at this point? Wasn’t it just yesterday we were diving into algebra in homeschool, and college was a distant dream? And now, somehow, she’s walking across a stage, ready to step into this next chapter. I find myself wondering, When did she grow up? How did we get here so fast?
As with many milestones, this one comes with a lot of BIG emotions. Joy, pride, excitement….and grief. This winter has been a hard season, and wrapped up in it has been the anticipation of Jillian graduating. I am deeply proud of Jillian—she has poured her heart into these years and grown into such an incredible young woman. And these big moments bring up grief and an intensity of missing Jon.
I shared with a friend recently that this has been especially hard because Jon is supposed to be here. He is supposed to be excited that his daughter is graduating from Cedarville, yet he’s not here for this milestone. He is supposed to be taking pictures and cheering her on, getting teary when she walks across the stage, but he’s not, and his absence feels loud right now.
And yet, even in the midst of the ache, I see beauty.
I see it in Jillian’s strength, her perseverance, and the joy that lights up her face when she talks about future possibilities. I see it in the ways Jon’s legacy lives on in her—in her determination, her compassion, her love for learning and for people. I see it in the memories we carry and the stories we still tell.
This moment is bittersweet, but it’s still a moment to celebrate. And I’m choosing to do just that.I keep reminding myself that grief and joy can exist together. That it’s okay to feel the weight of the loss and still celebrate. That it’s okay to cry and laugh in the same breath. I used to think I had to pick one or the other. But life—especially life after loss—doesn’t work like that. It’s complicated and sacred and layered.
So we’re going to take this trip. We’re going to watch Jillian walk across that stage, and I’ll probably cry the whole time—some tears of pride, some of sorrow, and many of gratitude. Because we made it. SHE made it. And God has been faithful every step of the way, even in the darkest nights and the loneliest places.
To all the moms who are walking through milestones without their person—I see you. You are not alone. These moments are tender, and they matter. Let yourself feel all of it. Let yourself celebrate. Let yourself grieve. Let yourself be proud.
And to Jillian—your dad would be so incredibly proud of you. I am so proud of you. You have become a woman of strength, character, and grace, and it is one of the greatest joys of my life to be your mom.
Here’s to this new beginning, and to all the goodness that is still to come.
0 Comments