May 18, 2005 - Wednesday
It's my understanding that Harry was a little sad, maybe just flexing an attitude, when I was gone on a business trip last month. When I got back he asked me a little about why I had to go on these trips and I explained that it was part of my work. I went on to say that only had one more long (5-day) business trip and then I'd be home for a long time. I made my flight arrangements for that a couple of weeks ago for the first full week of June, Monday to Friday. Last night Harry's mother found this graduation announcement in Harry's lunch box.

This isn't anything that most other parents haven't had to go through, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with, nor does that fact that I've missed almost no significant event in Harry's life thus far. Recently I've been to all his T-Ball games, I've been there for other school events going back to his first days of preschool, I've been to the doctor, the dentist, and to the playground when he learned to slide, swing, climb, and run. But there is no way I'll be able to go to his first graduation.

This morning I sat down with Harry at breakfast and didn't hesitate. "Harry, do you remember that I told you I have one more long trip that I need to go on?"
Without any further indication of what I was talking about and without hesitation, Harry asked, "you mean my graduation?" It's a punch in the parental gut, although I don't feel it as malicious on Harry's part, just disappointment.
"That's right, Harry. Mommy told me about your invitation," I said, rising from the table to get the paper that had been folded to have both cover art (above left) and an inside message (right). "Did you write so of this?" I ask, expecting that maybe he colored in the hat and that the teachers wrote the rest to look like kid writing.
"Yes, I wrote it all myself!"
"Wow" I think to myself. That means this is something he's been practicing and working on for several days: another punch in the parental gut. "Wow, Harry, that's really good. When did you learn to make all these letters?" I say out loud.
"At school."
"And they're little, lower case letters, too. I'm really impressed, Harry."

It's hard to know how disappointed Harry is that I won't be coming to his graduation. We talk about it for much of breakfast, but it's one of those conversations where a parent is really trying too hard to be thoughtful, caring, and helpful, and the kid eventually just needs to be a kid and loses interest. I'm sure I'll try again many times before I leave.


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