Bittersweet

Tonight was the band concert at our local school. First the jazz band played four tunes for us, then junior band took the stage for four, and finally senior band closed with four songs. It was a bittersweet night as my daughter, Rebekah, played in her last school concert.

Tonight I remembered her first twangs on the bass guitar as she taught herself to play using a DVD tutorial. My pre-teen tomboy did NOT follow in my footsteps and take up the piano, but followed her spunky heart instead and chose the guitar. Although I was sad she didn't take up one of "my" instruments, I was proud of her independence and desire to make her own way.

Many concerts later (with the French Horn added to her repertoire at some point along the route), I found myself near tears in the audience tonight. It is the last time I will see my child's name in a school program. It is her last time walking across the stage with her classmates. It hit me fully for the first time - it's all coming to a close, this time of being in her life every day, watching her grow, listening to her play and sing, hearing her laughing with her sister in the room across the hall from mine as they dress for a concert together.

I suddenly can't breathe, unable to imagine Rebekah being so many hours away as she takes the next steps into her new life. I think about her getting up, having breakfast in a place other than our familiar kitchen, and going to classes without her siblings. We're such a close family now, a team, and we operate like a well-oiled machine. I can't imagine her apart from us or envision our team without her.

But I know I must - it's part of the cycle and I have to wear my smile for her sake. Only now can I understand what my parents must have felt the day they left me in my dorm room at a mere 17 years of age. I wondered then why they were so somber when I was embarking on the biggest adventure of my life. Now I know.

Rebekah won't know my sadness, and I don't want her to. Just like she did with her guitar, I want her to make her own way and walk her spunky self into her new, independent life. Somehow I know she will, and I know we'll all be okay in the end.