So I finally graduated high school this past Sunday and it was such a wonderful occasion. Truth be told, I wasn't even excited about it two weeks before, but as I got into my cap and gown, it hit me that this was the end of a crucial chapter in my life.
As I sat in my seat waiting to be called so I could walk across that stage and accept my diploma, I thought about the twelve years leading up to this point. Twelve years, one chapter in my life, and it was finally coming to a close.
It was both frightening and exhilarating to know that I was seconds away from walking out those doors and stepping out into the "cold hard world."
As I walked out the Coliseum's doors into the bright sunlight, I was greeted and congratulated by many friends and family who had come to see me cross into the real world. It was wonderful of them to spend hours of their time waiting patiently for my name to be called.
What was even more generous of them, is that a lot of them gave me cards with donations to my mission trip this summer to Nicaragua. One card stood out among the rest. This was because it was attached to a small wooden box. Intrigued, I opened the box and took out a solid gold ring that was inside. My grandmother told me it belonged to my Uncle Mark.
My Uncle Mark, my dad's brother, was the second oldest of my five uncles and aunts. He was the trouble maker, always getting into trouble. My dad, the youngest of them, looked up to Mark and was closer to him then any of his other siblings.
Mark joined the military when he turned 18, and traveled around the world. The military was harsh on Mark, who was always bad on following orders.
I don't know much more about my Uncle Mark. I never got to meet him. He killed himself 2 years before I was born.
As I stared at this ring and pondered its meaning, I saw the tears welling up in my grandmothers eyes as she explained to me how she wanted me to keep it in the family. I also saw my dad tense beside me when he saw what was in the box. I heard my dads voice tense, as he told me to take care of it and not lose it.
As I stood there surrounded by this suddenly somber atmosphere, I couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like if my uncle hadn't taken his life that night.
I remembered all the times I've seen my grandparents cry when they come across a picture or hear a song that reminds them of him. All those tears would be erased.
My uncle mark played guitar. I know this because my grandma cries everytime she see me play cause it reminds her of him. He could have taught me how to play. He would have understood how much music means to me, unlike my dad.
I saw my dad, always so angry at the world. I wonder if part of that was because his brother, his hero, his role model left this world early. I wonder if my dad would be less closed off from the world...less closed off from me.
I wondered what he would be like. Would we get along? Would he be my favorite uncle? Would we have a close relationship with each other? Would I come to him for advice?
I imagined him there at all the past family gatherings. What would it be like to have him there at Thanksgiving? Christmas? My Graduation?
Especially my graduation. As I stood there staring at my uncle's ring, I wished more than anything for him to be there beside me, congratulating me. I wanted nothing more than for him to tell me what to look out for as I go out into this "cold hard world" alone. As I stared at the ring, I knew that would never come true, but it didn't stop me from imagining it.
