Tears

I rarely cry. It's not from some "tough guy" mentality, but because there aren't many things in my life that make me cry.

I cried on an August night in 2007. Diane and Matthew and I had just said our goodbyes to Joseph as we drove away from Bob Jones University after dropping him off for his freshman year. It broke my heart to see him standing alone behind the dorm; waving until we drove out of sight.

I cried again Friday. This time my tears were triggered by the sight of Matthew shaking hands with Dr. Jones on the FMA platform as he received his diploma.

There were other occasions for tears through the years, but these two seem to bookend a stage of our lives. A stage that opened with Joseph's freshman year and closed with Matthew's graduation.

The circle has closed.

We drove away from Bob Jones University the first time with a mixture of joy and sorrow. Joy because we were so excited for Joseph. Sorrow because we were leaving him behind; and, with it, his childhood was truly over. At the time, the sorrow seemed greater than the joy.

We drove away from Bob Jones University for the last time with a mixture of joy and sorrow. Joy because we, as a family, have made it through. Sorrow because it was the last time. This time, the joy was greater than the sorrow.

Diane and I have made the drive to Greenville a number of times over the past six years. The highways have become so familiar that I know the curves and hills through the Cumberlands and Smokies well before we get to them. My corny jokes about some of the exits and cities we pass have become comfortable; rather like an old shoe, with everyone knowing it's coming and sometimes even trying to beat me to the punch.

Each trip brings reminders of special moments on previous trips. Memories like our trips to the National Whitewater Training Center on the way to drop Joseph off the first couple of years; and the laughter and excitement of riding through the whitewater rapids.

Memories like getting "The World's Best Pizza" from the pizza shop in the Flea Market in Kodak, Tennessee. The atmosphere was strange and the pizza was far from the world's best.

Or memories like my mad dash through the mountains to pick up Joseph after his sophomore year. For whatever reason, Joseph's storage barrel had not been picked up. That meant he (I) had to find a way to get his barrel to the storage facility before 6:00 PM. We were not going to be on campus in time, so I had to pick it up a bit as we drove through the mountains in hopes of getting there in time to get his barrel taken care of. Fortunately, he found a friend with a car who could get it taken care of for him. We still talk about that almost every time we hit a particular place on the mountain road.

I suppose we won't be reliving those memories in the same way any more.

Diane and I are moving into the next stage of life; one where our children are grown and independent. Whether they continue to live with us for the foreseeable future or not is largely irrelevant.

They are grown.

It seems hard to believe that our boys are college graduates. It seems hard to believe they are so grown up. They are, though, and they have made us proud.