It is done

Well, we did it. He did it. It’s done.

Sitting in the Murray County Central Auditorium on Sunday afternoon, my husband turned to me and asked, “Are you going to cry?”

“No more than usual,” I replied.

We were waiting for graduation commencement to start and idly chatting, when I noticed a mom walk in with a full box of tissues. I thought I was well prepared because I had grabbed a tissue out of the holder in my car and shoved it in my pocket before we entered the building, but Caitlyn’s mom had done me one better. And she shared with a couple of people around us.

I didn’t really get weepy throughout the commencement, but later I told Eric that listening to Matt sing with the Rebel Voices before the ceremony was tougher than I thought it would be. I just kept thinking, “Oh, this is the last time I’ll hear that song” and “That’s the last time I’ll hear him do that solo.” I got rather close to tears over that.

When I admitted as much to my husband, he gave me a sheepish grin.

“I welled up a little bit over that, too,” he said.

We had already survived the graduation party, which took place on Saturday. My daughter had arrived from Rochester a few days early so she could help us prepare, and by the time Matt’s “Rockin’ Shindig” took place, the house was so clean it echoed, all the food was ready to go and all I had to do was make sure trays and crocks stayed full as people started to show up.

Thank goodness for my mother, who had prepared a bunch of the trays in advance, cooked some of the food and made a beautiful cake.

I stayed up until 2 a.m. getting everything put away, but that’s OK. The great thing was that my neighbor Shane had his party the next day, so everything left over from my house went over to his. We coordinated our efforts, and it served us well.

So now the party is over, the diploma is sitting on an end table and it’s time to move on.

For a year, everyone has been asking me if my husband and I will suffer from empty nest syndrome, and we’ve joked back that we’ll be fine, but in a quiet moment Monday night, we both admitted we’ll miss the kid an awful lot. His older siblings are already gone, and the house is going to feel so still. No more shockingly loud guitar riffs or drum licks, no more mysterious thumps and bumps from upstairs that always had us wondering what the heck he was up to, and no more bellows of “Mom!” when he can’t find what he’s looking for.

But life is an adventure, and it’s time to move on to the next one. There’s always something around the corner and never a dull moment.

Honestly, we already know what the next bout of excitement will be in the Wettschreck lives – I’ll fill you in on that next time.