My daughter has taught me a lesson that many adults did not learn.
Several events over the past few weeks, from Memorial Day weekend and coming up on Father's Day, have caused me to reflect inward and think about the legacy I'm leaving behind to my family and the rest of the world.
On Saturday May 26, 2012, my oldest daughter graduated from high school and she's off to college in the fall, leaving the nest. This summer is probably the last time she'll be living at home for the rest of her life. Sure, she'll come home over the holidays and summer break, but most of that time is spent going out with friends and catching up on the happenings in their lives.
From this point forward, my baby is going to be out in the real world on her own. Am I nostalgic thinking back about the time we spent together? Heck yes. Am I sad? Yes, but excited for the adventure she is about to embark on. Am I worried? No way!
Let me share with you a true story involving a little boy and a little girl that happened many years ago but still moves me to tears when I tell it.
There was a boy and girl who lived next door to each other since they were eighteen months old and their birthdays were only weeks apart. They played together, trick or treated together and began school at the same time. They were inseparable and became BFF's, Best Friends Forever, or so they thought.
Shortly before the little boy's sixth birthday, he was diagnosed with a tennis ball sized tumor at the base of his brain, which required immediate surgery along with intense radiation and chemotherapy. Even with the aggressive treatment, the odds were against him surviving. If he did survive, he was never going to grow up normally: his growth was stunted and his hair would never fully grow back. Also, his speech and physical coordination were also affected. But he was a fighter; he beat the odds and survived.
After nearly three years of surgeries, treatments and therapies that had him spending more time in hospitals than in his own home, he was going back to school in the neighborhood with the normal kids. He'd go to therapy in the mornings and to school in the afternoon where he’d ride home on the bus like all the other kids.
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This article was originally published at . Reprinted with permission from the author.