Graduation

I sat here tonight and stared at the computer screen.  I told myself I would be done with this project by last night, so I could give the seniors their gifts at the picnic.  Yesterday came and went, and I tried to give myself an excuse ("I'm exhausted" has been the latest one, because it's mostly true!). 

The reality is that I didn't do anything, because I didn't know what to write.  Or rather, I didn't know if I should be truthful to them.

My idea was to give them a journal to record the next year of their life, and I would write them a letter in the front.  But how do you write a touching and sentimental letter without sounding like a total sap, without making them cry, and without throwing in the "I've seen what's really important, and trust me- a lot of what you think is important isn't!!"

I want them to get out there and make their own lives, and I want them to take the chances and make the mistakes.  That's where memories come from! If life goes perfectly as planned, there aren't a lot of great stories to share with others.  Still, I was a bit guarded about what I needed to write.  I took a moment to think about my high school graduation (which took forever, because no one warned ME to write things down!).

I told my mother after remembering, that I had a frontal lobe that developed way before everyone else.  Her response: "you and your frontal lobe..."  I love my mother, and the fact that she laughs at my response.  The reality is I couldn't remember much about graduation, because I guess I knew there would be more important moments in my life. I remember that I wore my ruby slippers to the ceremony (when the rule was to wear black dress shoes). I remember that the picture of me shaking the principal and superintendent's hands while receiving my diploma feature their disdainful looks while looking down at my shoes. :-)  I remember realizing that college was a reality, because there was no more high school left for me.

So I guess I felt doom.  Expectations were out there, and I wondered if I could hack it.

No one told me to LIVE THEN. They told me to get out there, set goals, reach them, and have a great life. They didn't warn me that life was happening while I was trying to REACH the goals! No one warned me that whether I went to college for one month or ten years, that life was still going to happen; and that many of the things that happened to me were chance.  And no one told me how bad regret would feel--how when I really took a good look back at that time of my life, I regretted not taking more chances.  I was too terrified of failure- that the balls I was juggling would come tumbling down if I didn't keep up the pace.

Well, guess what? They came tumbling down.  And I turned out just fine.  And then I realized that, if anything, I wanted to warn the people that came after me.  To let them know that it's ok to have big dreams, that they can achieve them, but that they need to include fun and experience along the way.

And without sounding like some downer or an overly spiritual person (in light of my current situation), I wanted to let them know that they shouldn't plan to live to be 100.  Because they might stare in the mirror at age 30, and wonder how (and if) the next year will turn out.  And then they will REALLY regret all of these chances they didn't take.  And the retirement account they tried to create, or the savings for "when I live my life" won't really matter.  And THEN, they'll wish someone told them.

So, my gift to these students? Yes, it's a journal and a letter. But really, it's a challenge.  A challenge to get out there in the world and LIVE in it.  To take risks, to make memories, and to record them.  I don't want them to fear the world around them, and I want them to get out and explore every piece of it they can.  And what happens if they fail? At least there's a story to tell.  Heck, some of my best stories were from my failures.  And I wanted them to know they don't need to be afraid to love. These really are my two big things I want to leave behind in this world, and a good start is in 30 journals to new adults.

Graduation is a cool thing in the metamorphosis of life; it symbolizes both an ending, and a new beginning. I guess everything is cyclical, but there are few great moments that are publicly celebrated as both.  For us introspective folks, we can always see this reality.  For new graduates, I imagine this duality is terrifying.  I know great change is only scary when people focus on failure.  When we see all the opportunity, and aren't afraid to fail, that is when we LIVE.

I also brought up my list I created, and how I have really lived more in the past two-three years than I did my whole life before then. I don't want them to feel the same way- I want their lives to start now.  I can't control the future, but I can inspire it.

Last night we had the picnic of the National Honor Society, and all of the attendants were seniors. One member asked me, "is your treatment after graduation?"  Earlier yesterday, I had the doctor call to try to schedule my treatment to start on graduation day. I know it sounded trivial to him, but I told him I couldn't miss graduation for treatment.  I wanted to say goodbye before I moved on.  And I have a feeling this student was feeling the same way.

I know that I have every possibility of making it through this treatment with little after-effect, and going on to live a relatively normal life.  I also know there's a possibility of recurrence, or that my body will never be the same after treatment (that's the risk I had to weigh).  And I know it was these thoughts that made it hard to write the letter. I tried not to capture the urgency of my final words, or something crazy like that. I wanted a message of hope, and something to inspire them.

Not something to remember me by.... I'll leave my manifesto for that. ;-)