A Graduation Message to My Grandson

The years may divide us, but our heads are in the same strange place

Photo by RUT MIIT on Unsplash

Dear Grandson,

Finally, here we are, at your graduation. There have been many times over the past four years when we both thought this would never happen. And yet here we are.

From my perch in the stadium, I can locate you among the sea of fidgeting caps and gowns. We parents and grandparents are fidgety too, enduring the lengthy remarks of the class valedictorian.

He runs through a fusion of familiar advice, catchy quotes, and light jokes. Although the crowd chuckles politely, he seems to sense he’s losing our interest. As someone who wrote plenty of speeches for a living, I can feel his pain.

It must have been difficult to try to find something new to say — or at least something that would convince this audience of restless, anxious, and hopeful students he knows how they feel.

No one asked for my input. Which is good, because the older I get, the less I’m sure of. But this time, I do think I have something of value to share. And so, dear grandson, here it is:

I think we’re a lot alike, you and I. True, you are young and I am not. I keep my hair trimmed, and you do not. But we’re both seniors — even if your title refers to your class rank and mine to my eligibility for Social Security.

More to the point, we’re both ending one phase of life and starting another. You, moving from high school to work or college, and me, from a career to retirement.

That means we’re both in the same headspace. A very nervous one. We’re stewing in an emotional pot that roils us, in alternating waves, from the certainty we’re up to the challenge, to the abject terror we’re not.

Remember how cool it felt when that last bell rang and you were free? I get it. I felt the same thing when turning in my corporate laptop.

But then the tide turned. With all that freedom, what’s to be done with it? No one, neither teacher nor coach nor boss nor mentor, is telling us what to do anymore. We both wonder what to do next.

What about friends? After graduation, yours will scatter to the four winds. You may have a yearbook full of messages promising eternal friendship, but we both know that’s not likely.

Life transitions such as graduations and retirements cut a deep swath, dissecting your “real” friends from your “deal” friends. Precious few turn out to be authentic. When you find them, hang on and don’t let go.

You’re worried about money. Tuition, housing, and food are expensive. I get it. I don’t pay much for classes these days. But trust me, you wouldn’t want my healthcare bills, much less the aches and pains behind them. Sorry not to be all grandmotherly and comforting on this one. I’m just sayin’.

So this is why I’ve never been asked to be a commencement speaker. Telling an auditorium full of restless young adults in caps and gowns that they’re much like an old broad like me would hardly strike the appropriate tone.

So I’m telling you what I keep telling myself: You’re going to be alright. Just keep doing your best. Your grandpa and I love you.

Oh, and once you get to college, don’t forget to check in every once in a while. Because your grandpa and I are worried and anxious and not sure how everything is going to work out for us. I’m sure you can relate.