Graduation.

A blur of a day.
When did it start? When did it end?

Feet slipping into red wedges. Hair curled. Make-up done. Gown zipped, hat secured. Tassle set.

Walking down the aisle.
Don't cry. Don't cry.
Fake smile. Don't cry.

Name called. Applause so loud, it's surprising. Lips tremble as I bite back the tears. The walk across the stage--fake smile, don't trip--it seems to last forever.

"Micah Josef Berthold." Soon his name echoes from the microphone and bounces off the walls, and the auditorium becomes instantly hushed. Josef walks on stage, toward the empty chair--applause so loud, standing ovation, tears welling up inside--Micah's cap now on his dad's head. Who would have thought it'd be this way? That his father would gently fill his place? I squint my eyes, and for a fleeting second Micah is there, wearing that hat---maybe he is in a wheelchair, and maybe we are cheering for the triumph of his survival of the accident. Maybe he is damaged, but he is still there, laughing and energetic as ever, handsome and beaming in his gown. But no, he is quickly lost in the sea of caps, and soon I am back to reality, and we are only cheering for his absence, the void. And there's nothing else we can do.

Walk back out, quickly grab the hands of my second family that is sitting in the first row, see the pain in their eyes as I glide by. "I wish it wasn't this way" that look says. "I'm sorry he is not here." "I'm sorry it's so wrong."...We both know. That look says a thousand words.

Later, Josef gives me two kisses, "one from me" and "one from Micah." "Micah's" kiss seems to linger on my cheek throughout the afternoon; I can feel it sitting there and it makes me happy.

And soon, Micah's cap is in my hands: 3--2--1--and it flings into the sky, black against the clouds, spinning and twirling in a chaos of wind, until it falls onto the ground, still.

And the day is over, and I can't go back, and it is a harmony of good and bad; tears and laughter, hate and love; my "bittersweet symphony" continues late into the early hours of the morning.

"I'm so proud of you," Micah said to me when he saw my straight-A report card several months ago.

I'm so proud of you.
I know you're proud of me today. I can hear you saying it.

But please know I am so, so proud of you as well. Look how far we've come, and look how far we have yet to go together.