By: Jane Thompson
This June, on what would have been my father’s 74th birthday, I’ll be cheering for my daughter as she graduates from high school. Nothing would have thrilled Dad more than to see his granddaughter walking across that stage. She adored him during the 11 years they shared, just as much as I did. But his empty chair will serve as a poignant reminder of life’s dualities: joy intertwined with sorrow.
The sweetness of launching my little girl into the world is overshadowed by the sadness that hits when I watch her take flight. I’ve experienced this before with my son, now 20, so I know how graduation day will unfold. We’ll sit through the lengthy commencement ceremony, and when “Pomp and Circumstance” plays, I’ll feel an ache deep in my belly reminiscent of holding my proud graduate. Tears will flow, and the day will become a blur, much like the moments following my dad’s funeral.
The summer will be hectic, filled with preparations for her college journey. As a single parent, I’m tackling the financial burden of her education while also dealing with the practicalities: buying extra-long sheets, opening a bank account, and splurging on a heavy down coat to keep her warm in Chicago’s harsh winters. We’ll make it work; we always do, even if it means living on rice and beans for a week.
However, when it comes to sending her off into the world, it’s not just the coat or the bedding that worries me. There’s an undeniable difference in how I feel about sending my daughter off compared to my son.
I don’t want to go into a long list of my own college experiences, but I did face several terrifying situations that highlight the vulnerabilities women encounter. From an attempted assault in my dorm to being mugged at gunpoint, these incidents are reminders of the harsh realities out there for young women. While I hope my daughter never has to face anything like that, I can’t shake the fear for her safety as she heads to college.
This dread is all too familiar, especially since trauma can resurface when our children reach the age we were at the time of our own experiences. I wish I could protect her from the world, but there’s no equivalent of a Canada Goose jacket for shielding her from the darker sides of humanity. My words of caution will have to suffice as we shop for those extra-long sheets and discuss safety while she navigates her new independence.
The freedoms my son enjoys often feel like a luxury for my daughter. She knows she can’t take the subway alone at night, a reality that frustrates her but also highlights the disparities in how we navigate the world. For every step she takes towards independence, the shadow of potential danger looms.
Ideally, I want her college experience to be filled with learning and growth, not fear. But as I prepare to say goodbye on that campus green, the mix of pride and apprehension will weigh heavily on my heart. It’s a different kind of sorrow, knowing I can’t always shield her from life’s uncertainties.
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In summary, sending a daughter off to college is layered with emotional complexities that differ from sending a son. The joy of watching her grow is mixed with the anxiety of what lies ahead in a world that can be unforgiving.