Tears of A Clown

(Smokey Robinson, 1967)

I spent most of today choking back tears. It started off when I prayed with Tyler this morning, his last day of high school. Now this, unfortunately, is not a daily ritual, which may be why it led to wet cheeks. He went in late to school, I woke up early. I called him upstairs and had him sit on the bed. I took his hand in mine and I started to pray what I had been rehearsing in my mind (mostly because I DIDN'T want to cry). I thanked God for the beautiful gift He had given to me in Tyler. I thanked God for the wisdom He has given Tyler in choosing friends and making choices, and asked for His continued guidance. I asked for protection in the coming days, months and years. I asked God to let Tyler know how much he is loved, admired and cherished, and to know how much joy he gives to all who know him. I feel a little sting in my eyes even now.

Later in the day, Ty came home with his yearbook and I was looking at all the senior ads parents purchase to try and humiliate their kids by putting in the most embarrassing pictures they can find (I think I win - I've got one of Tyler and Kate in hula outfits, complete with grass skirt and coconut bra). One of Tyler's friends lost her dad several years ago and in her ad there were pictures of her and her dad, with a poem written from him to her. A big 'ole lump in the throat on that one. Then I saw an ad for Danielle (the girl I'd have as a daughter-in-law right now if I had to choose) and I lost it. Tyler's page didn't even do that to me (maybe because I spent hours and hours and hours designing it. It kicks some serious boo-tay).

Then later, Tyler and I were watching the Bob Barker special and the waterworks got turned on again. I have no idea what triggered it. Probably watching a rerun of that Samoan woman lifting Bob off his feet. Several times. Now that's just pathetic. And totally hormonal.

This empty nest thing is overrated. I don't know how birds do it. When Kate left home I still had Tyler. Now I'll just have Ron, which, all things considered, is not a bad thing. In fact, I'm sure it's God's provision for my sanity. Amen to that.