I am not going to lie; I have had some whopper hangovers. But this hangover is the worst ever.
My head hurts, I am so tired. I think I have regrets, I am anxious, no appetite. This has been the worst hangover I have ever had; it has lasted almost a week, and it is not because I drank too much.
It is because my son graduated from college.
I arrived on the campus of West Virginia University in September of 1979. Tower one, floor 4, room 15 on Evansdale Campus. My roommate, Annie, my friend since kindergarten, arrived with our black and white cat sheets, the ones with the red collars (we still have no idea why we picked those) and we became college freshmen. I chose WVU because you didn't need SAT scores (I have zero math skills) and could get in. Annie was going there, and she talked me into it.
I had never been to the campus before but any campus represented independence and at 73 Bel Aire Road, "my house, my rules" did not focus on independence.
In hours, the two small town girls had met enough people to host a big party. We came to play and came to win. We spoke to everyone, about everything. We thrived. We didn't go to class much, but we thrived socially.
I absolutely loved all four years in Morgantown.
On graduation day, there was a ceremony for all students in the coliseum. I was not going to go. My other friend said, "you are going, bring champagne and not your parents." I went. I cried. I cried because at that point, it was the saddest day of my life. It was over.
At the school of journalism graduation, my grandparents attended along with my parents and best friend. There was cake.
I packed up my belongings and headed back to the tiny town of Delmont with my WVU memories secured tightly in my heart. "Take me home country roads, to the place I belong, West Virginia, mountain mamma, take me home country roads." I sang this song over and over again once I got pack home. It was not the same.
Fast forward 41 years to the day, my son Walker walked the stage in the coliseum. His parents were present, but he didn't have champagne. He did not want to walk.
The final moments of graduation, were about 2500 kids, arms locked, tasseled turned, singing loudly, drowning out John Denver," to the place I belong, West Virginia...Mountain mama, take me home country roads." I saw parents with misty eyes.
For four years, I thought about that moment. I thought about my son, all garbed up, swaying, arm in arm, singing loudly and proudly when the moment came. And when it came, I just dropped one tear.
It had been a whirlwind. Addie flying in, being delayed, Walker retrieving her in Pittsburgh, Frankin and I left long after we had planned because of work, of course we had to have one of those knock down car fights and I never checked the weather. WE didn't have the proper clothing. The weekend was off to a great start. (insert sarcasm)
First up, the party we were co-hosting with Walker's friend. Honestly, I didn't think there would be many folks showing up. I was so wrong. The party was a smashing success.
After the party, we dragged ourselves to the hotel to get some sleep and left Walker with instructions for the next day.
Saturday, I got up at the crack of dawn and drove back to Delmont to visit my mom at the Twin Valley Cemetary for Mother's Day.
This plan looked good on paper, it really did. Nothing prepared me for seeing my mother's name on the headstone. I sat and talked to her for a while. I had plenty to catch her up on and then I told her I had to get back to get ready for brunch. As I was leaving, I said, out loud to her, "don't move, I will be back". The most ridiculous thing I have ever said, and I know she was cracking up.
I decided to go visit the best uncle ever and my grandparents in the Mausoleum. Spoke to them, stuck some flowers in a vase for my mamaw and told them all, I wish we could just have one more day on the front porch on Vine Street, or the cottage.
I went back to say goodbye to my mom, and she listened, she didn't move, she was still there.
I got back in the car, and the little town that I lived in for a very small portion of my life, was so warm and cozy in my heart, I was overwhelmed. I zipped through that town and waved at the Boy Scout Troop selling Mother's Day flowers at the light where Mook's hardware used to be and shook my head. Didn't my brother and I just march down the street in the Delmont Halloween Parade as the Jolly Green Giant and Little Sprout? Seriously?
I drove back to Morgantown in record time to get ready for brunch.
Everything was so fresh in my mind, like I was still 18 or 19. It was so crazy. It was Twilight Zone like.
Fabulous brunch and not so fabulous moving out of the frat house followed by dinner where I cried my mascara off because I was laughing so hard.
Sunday morning was the day. Up and at them, finish cleaning, meet for lunch and get to graduation.
When we were sitting at Marios eating lunch and opening graduation cards and gifts along with some Mother's Day gifts, it occurred to me that this would be the last time I would ever be in this eatery. Marios was a regular stop for me over the years. I most likely owned at least a chair in the place. And I guess my chair would belong to someone else.
The big graduation ceremony happened in all of its glory.
We got back to our cars and went either home, back to a frat house or to check into a new hotel.
Walker had been, pretty much, most of the day, a jerk. Tired, moody, edgy and not very nice and very "what is the big deal?"
I thought we would be spending our last night together eating dinner, but he announced that he was going to hang out with "his friends" one last time.
I asked for one last picture over the bridge and after biting my head off, I dropped it.
He went his way, we went ours. I got down to the hotel restaurant/bar and I sat there in silence and looked around at families with grandparents and kids and smiled. I ordered a "country roads" beer and just sat there. In silence. And I was so glad. I was just taking this all in.
My husband joined me with his new WVU pullover. He sat down and ordered a drink and exhaled. It was a "he did it, cannot believe it is over, no child support went with the student loans, he is growing up, and only one more to launch" exhale.
"A roller coaster of emotions"...that was my diagnosis. I was also suffering from a roller coaster of emotions.
I never cared where my kids went to college, just as long as they had a secondary education plan. As long as they were comfortable with the plan, I knew we would be. Was I happy that Walker went to WVU? Sure. I never encouraged it, it was not a must, and it would have been okay if he didn't hang out on High Street. It was his journey, not mine.
But as I sat there, drinking a Country Roads, I knew, that I most likely would never be back to "the place I belonged". It was time to find new places and new experiences. And
the trips back to my hometown would most likely be limited to class reunions and funerals now that my mom had passed. All of this broke my heart.
During lunch, when Walker opened up his graduation cards, there was a Dr. Suess one from a neighbor. "Oh, the places you will go" card. Walker commented that ever since he was in preschool, he has received this card. "I was getting nervous that I was not going to get one here at the last chapter."
I think it was the words "last chapter" that hit me.
It was definitely not his last chapter, but I am pretty sure, at 63 years old, my chapters were limited.
He joined us, we ate, laughed, talked about the day, the weekend and the next day. We also talked about what he "heard" at commencement and what he thought about the ceremony.
He was so glad to be done...with all of it. He called it the "fuckery". Noise, sliding trays, filth, parties, papers being due, conflict resolution." He was done. Done with all of it.
But he admitted that he was so glad he walked across that stage, and he didn't realize how hard it would be to say goodbye and he knew that friendships he coveted would be different.
He apologized for his lousy attitude most of the day. "There were just so many emotions that I did not expect".
Monday, Walker and Franklin were driving to Grant, Colorado, where Walker would spend who knows how long as a cowboy at a ranch.
Rise and shine came quickly. I showered, got my car unpacked and packed, drove to the front of the hotel to say goodbye to my boys.
And as I went to hug my son, I felt "it" from the toes up, and "it" consumed me. I am honestly not sure what" it" really was, but it was there. My kids never held on to my legs and hid in social setting and always ran into preschool, camps or school but this time "it" was different. "It" was different because it was.
I held on to my son like it was the last time I would ever see him and surprisingly, I cried. No idea why. Not like a tear, but the kind of cry when you don't breathe and then you gasp, and you cannot control yourself.
I got in my car and headed south. No ceremonial lap around town, I headed south.
All day, as I traveled, my mind was like a spir-o-graph. Remember those? My mind within a boundary but all over the place.
This was not about the fact that my son graduated. It was not about him going west for the summer and possibly longer, it was that he could. It was over. He was going forward but he was going without us, or I mean me.
And that was ok. Really, it was. It should be this way.
It just happened so quickly. He just graduated from preschool. I was so busy raising the kids, doing laundry, putting money on lunch accounts and getting them to and fro, that I felt like I missed "it". "It" being his mother. I mean I was always going to be his mother, but the daily, incidentals, the buying toothpaste and the "how was your day?" was over. "It" was over.
And the following days, it filled my head. It made my head hurt. It made me not be able to sleep and it filled me with angst. I kept thinking about all of the things I missed because I was worried about dirt on the kitchen floors or folding laundry. I thought about the night I yelled at him because he accidentally sat on the pumpkin sheet cake that I made for Boy Scouts that night. I thought about how he told me that while we sat and watched Addie do horseback riding lessons, he wanted them too but was afraid to ask. Is this why he wanted to go to the ranch? Why didn't he speak up? Or did I miss the signal?
And of course, I threw in the "I have one foot in the grave and what are my kids going to remember about me?
Regrets, I had a few regrets. Things I did, things I didn't do as a mom. More things I wish I would have done.
I was being a very harsh judge, judging myself.
And then, I got the call. From my son. He too was having a bit of a meltdown.
Had he made the right decision? Was going to the ranch the right thing to do? Should he come home? "Jeez, this has been a lot mom".
It took my son to say, "mom, it has been a roller coaster."
I responded, "understatement. It is all going to be ok".
And guess what, it is going to be. Looking back, we should have just chilled on Monday, slept and took a minute.
My friend, her son also graduated last weekend. He too had a meltdown.
Maybe there needs to be a class taught about what happens after you walk across the stage for the moms and the children.
I put his things away. Unsubscribed from WVU things, and took Morgantown out of my weather app. I replaced it with Grant, Colorado.
I went through his clothes, tossed some and folded some.
It made me feel better. The task I despise, folding laundry, made me feel better. Ironic.
I went out on the porch to throw the dog a new ball and my neighbor went by and said, "Mountain Mamma, how did it go?" (Notice the "it" again)
I laughed and said, "I am no longer, a mountain mamma"
To which he responded, "you are will always be the mountain mamma".
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