Cheering Her On with One Hand on My Heart

It’s been 10 years since Steve died.

In that time, there have been countless moments he has missed. Birthdays. Holidays. Everyday dinners filled with laughter and eye rolls. But lately, my mind has been fixed on one type of milestone in particular—graduations. Our middle daughter is about to graduate from college in just a few weeks, and with that approaching, I can’t help but look back.

Here’s what he has missed:

🎓 3 high school graduations

🎓 1 college graduation

🎓 3 junior high graduations

🎓 3 “stepping up” ceremonies from sixth grade

Each one marked a rite of passage. Each one left a hollow space where he should have been.

Graduations are a big deal on their own. But when you are the one coordinating the plans, managing the emotions, organizing the parties, welcoming the extended family and handling all the logistics alone, it can feel overwhelming. And emotional.

A college graduation, in particular, feels especially weighty. It’s not just a celebration; it’s a launch. It’s your child moving into full-fledged adulthood, with all of its complexity—finding a job, choosing a city, signing a lease, paying bills, getting health insurance and facing the uncertainty of what’s next.

My daughter is feeling all of it right now: excitement, anxiety, pride, fear. I remember feeling all of that at my own college graduation. You stand at the edge of the known and wonder if you’re ready to take the leap.

But beyond her emotions are mine.

As a solo parent, I’m flooded with thoughts. I did it. I helped launch another daughter into the world. That took more strength, more resilience and more energy than anyone could know. I want to shout it from the rooftops: I did it.

And yet, I know that when I sit in the audience watching her walk across that stage and cheering her on, the air will feel heavier. His absence will press on my heart. The seat beside me that should be filled with his joy, his pride, his tears will remain painfully empty.

But here’s what I also know: my pride will rise to meet the space his absence leaves behind.

Because she did it.

It has not been easy. I won’t share her story here. It is hers to tell. But I will say this: her path to this moment has had more bumps, detours and uphill climbs than most. And still, she kept going.

Sar Bear, I am so proud of you. You have always remained true to yourself, even when life made that hard. You’ve earned every step of this journey.

To those of you who are navigating these milestone moments alone—whether it’s a graduation, a wedding, a new job or just a Tuesday that feels like too much, I see you. These are the big events you do alone. And they are hard.

But they are also yours to own, to feel, to celebrate.

Let yourself feel the pride. Let yourself cry if you need to. And don’t forget to say to yourself, out loud if you must: I did it.