I saw my nephew’s final high school play last night, “The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee.” It was a great production, and he did a fantastic job. Since he's been involved in drama for a few years now, I recognized a lot of the other kids in the cast from different productions. Seeing them come together one more time for a production that was so entertaining, and one they clearly enjoyed, was a lot like watching them take a victory lap. As a teacher and an artist and an uncle, I was proud of them all, for so many reasons.
But it was also a sad night.
In less than a month, my nephew will go through his high school graduation. The commencement ceremony will be held on the campus of the college he’ll be attending in the fall. Because he’s the youngest of my sister’s three sons, his moving on to college signals the end of any familial attachments I’ll have with anything related to childhood.
Because of whatever twisted path of decisions and indecisions I ended up making throughout life, I’ve gotten this far into the game without having been married or having any children. I know there are people in the periphery of my world who look at that fact and wonder about it; my only response is I often wonder how things happened that way myself, so you’re more than kindly invited to mind your own @#$%&^! business on the subject. However, this meant my nephews were the children in our family. My sister Erin and I always tried to be an active aunt and uncle team for the boys, and, at least in their younger years immediately following Erin’s passing, I tried to step in and make up for her absence. My reasons were both because I felt the responsibility — especially for the oldest one, since I was the only godparent he had left — but also because part of me craved even a sampling of this whole category of life experiences I was all too aware I was going to miss. As a teacher, I’ve been to more dance recitals and basketball games and church concerts than I could ever remember, but those were all for students. Going to those activities for students can be its own kind of special experience, but it’s not the same when you have that blood connection to the kids you came to watch.
I had years when my Wednesday nights meant picking up Nephew #1, driving him a couple suburbs over for Tae Kwon Do class, then taking him to the Subway at the other end of the strip mall for dinner, where he ordered the same sandwich, without fail, every single time. Nephew #2 was the one who was game to try just about anything once, as long as it had something to do with a ball, running around, and teams full of kids he could play with. Football, basketball, soccer, baseball — it’s entirely possible I’m forgetting a sport or two. There were enough games spread out over the years I seriously considered buying my own collapsing canvas chair to use on the sidelines, so I wouldn’t have to borrow one from my sister or sit in the grass.
Nephew #3 gave sports a try early on, but they didn’t stick. For the longest time he was that kid content to play video games, eat cheese tortillas, and, as was his birthright and responsibility as the youngest child, irritate his older siblings. Then in middle school he found music. One instrument wasn’t enough, so he tried others. He got older and there was speech. He got to high school and saw a lot of his friends trying out for plays, which led to some parts in drama and voice lessons so he could be in musicals.
All of that’s done now. Any melancholy I feel isn’t about giving up the activities — which were not always a thrill — but knowing those three boys and the world of their childhood is over. I cringe a little at the phrase “young men,” but when my youngest nephew is probably able to grow a heavier beard than mine and he’ll be in college in a few months, I can’t really call him a boy anymore. They are all three young men, each seeking their own direction, trying to navigate the worlds they live in, and figuring out what will come next.
They’ll still be a part of my life, but not to the same degree or in the same way anymore. Even though I’m happy to have had so much time with them when they were younger and I’m happy to know who they are now, there’s a distancing that seems inherent with growing up. I’m glad I was able to have that with them, and I hope the Buffalo Wild Wings lunches we had and the Lego Halloween fairs we built and the movies we saw made some kind of positive difference for them. They certainly did for me. Whatever comes next for them, I’m going to miss what isn't there anymore.
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