MARITIME COMMUNITY

Last week our crew finished up school for the summer. Our children are young. We still have many years before we see the tassel of even a middle school graduation. However, that’s not to suggest that our little one’s last week at school was without pomp, circumstance, ceremony and celebration. To many, this may seem silly. However, to the majority of cap-and-gown wearing kindergarteners, this is a momentus occasion. For the next thirty minutes, I laughed and cried and spaztically switched between video and digital cameras, trying to capture every moment. During a lull in the action, I noticed the couple to my right, skillfully “tag-teaming” the graduation. (He worked the digital, while she handled the video). Excited for their graduate, they were ready for action. As the graduation program came to a close, the kindergarten teacher dismissed the class one last time. Almost immediately the ceremonial order gave way to celebratory chaos as the new grads took off running for their proud parents. I watched as the tag team to my right scooped up their little one. Mom hugged while dad high-fived. Eventually a semi-toothless little graduate emerged from the family-style rugby scrum, to present his parents with his hard earned dimploma. Pride and happiness oozed from his every pore.
Pulling my attention back to the remaining kinder crowd, I spotted our esteemed graduate bounding through the crowd, heading right for me. A wave of panic hit me. The smile on his face was joyous and genuine, but would it last? I began to fret that our little guy would become sad or disappointed once he reached me, and only me. Sure, daddy had called the night before from the ship to wish him well, but would that be enough to carry him through this special day? Would seeing the other families–moms and dads, celebrating together with their grads, make him sad? I wondered. I worried. I waited….
When our graduate finally made his way to me (he took the long route), I gushed, making sure he knew how proud I was of him. He beamed. He was thrilled to see his grandparents and very happy to learn that we were going out to lunch to celebrate his special day.
However, as we piled into the minivan, his mood began to change. He became subdued and serious, expressing a concern about my photography and video-taking abilities. Although I believe I pose no threat to Martin Scorses, I was fairly confident in assuring our new graduate that he would enjoy the graduation video that I had just shot. This was met with a deep sigh (and probably a dramatic eye roll). I was told, in no uncertain terms, that the video was not for him, it was for daddy. He went on to explain that he knew how much daddy really wanted to be at his graduation. Having a video–a “good video” would allow daddy to share in the special day when he got off the ship.
Bittersweet moment. Reality had blown through Cloud 9. Daddy was not at graduation. Yet, there was no bitterness or resentment. At the tender age of six, our son had not only learned to accept the situation and deal with it, but he had also learned how to make it better for himself and his dad. I was stunned. I was impressed. And, once again, I was proud.

At lunch, I quietly marveled over our little guys thoughts and comments. Was there some sort of a divine event that rocketed our son to a higher, more profound level of maturity and understanding? Did I miss something? As he wiped his ketchup fingers on his tie and devilishly delighted in serenading the table with an original score orchestrated from his armpit, my devine maturity theory went up in smoke. He was still a silly little six year old. However, he was also a silly little six year old who had 100% confidence in his daddy’s love for him, regardless of his daddy’s location. This secure unwavering love didn’t happen overnight. It happened everynight, over six silly and wonderful years from the land and from the sea. And, it was his to keep forever.

Our kindergartener learned a lot this year. He can read. He can write. He can count the money in his piggy bank. However, no lesson was more precious then the one he learned somewhere between the many nights his dad had tucked him into bed and the nights that his goodnight kiss came via long distance “ship to shore” phone call. Daddy loved him. Plain and simple. Sure and true. It didn’t matter where daddy’s ship took him, daddy’s heart was always home with us. Forever and Always.