We are celebrating her college graduation, and celebrating with her friends. But seeing these signs population our town, I realize my scars brought on by forced COVID-isolation have not completely healed. Likely, they never will fully heal.
In June 2020 I blogged about my feelings when they were still raw. I called hers a George Bailey graduation. In 2020 the community was torn with feelings about forced isolation with some loving the chance to recharge, and others feeling like caged animals. Many, not quite all, agreed the Class of 2020 was getting a raw deal. For years this class watched classes before them celebrate the culmination of years of hard work. There were small celebrations -- such as making a speech after their final show, wearing their college shirts to school on a rare dress down day, college visitations, even hugging their teachers good-bye. Then the bigger ones the adults think of: prom, graduation, and post-prom and post-graduation celebrations. The photo taking opportunities.
On Thursday, March 12, 2020 they were sent home and told they would go to school from home for two weeks. The next day the teachers scrambled to create virtual lesson plans.
As we all recall, two weeks stretched into a month. Into, see you after Easter Break. Into, maybe in May. Into, maybe in June. Into a strange silence as even the most optimistic adult realized this class would never celebrate the way every other class had celebrated.
The cheerleaders of the group got creative. The first concession was to create signs showing a graduate lived in the home.
Our girl's school had a couple of other smaller celebrations -- a chance to pick up awards "handed out" at the virtual senior banquet. A pile of things they would have received at the post-graduation party. A silk rose to hand to their mom during virtual graduation in lieu of the real one they would have handed out at the traditional baccalaureate ceremony. In each case we sat in a car as things were loaded into our open trunks by volunteers trying to smile behind the mandatory masks all while their eyes looked sad. Junior volunteers were hoping their class wouldn't have the same fate. The class of 2020 was hoping that, too.
Four years later when I see these signs, signs that were non-existent for the classes of 2019, 2018, 2017, etc., I'm once again filled with sadness for what my daughter and her friends lost out on, and frustrated that the classes that have prom, graduation, and the smaller celebrations ALSO get a sign so the neighbors know they reached this milestone. It doesn't feel fair (yes, I know, life isn't fair).
I feel similarly about the graduation party invitations that come from friends who said celebrating a high school graduation is not a big deal, yet four years later they want me to come celebrate their child's accomplishment, and bring a gift, because (after all) it is a huge accomplishment to graduate from high school and go to college.
Hmm.
I think the signs have outlasted their reason for existence.
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