With June almost here, the Season of Lasts is upon us. In prior years, this could mean Tyler putting away his viola for the last time (eighth grade) or Dylan going up for his last at bat (seventh). The lasts were usually notable, but rarely intense. However, unlike in years past, this Season hits with an unrelenting ferocity.
Closing time, you don't have to go home,
But you can't stay here
--From Closing Time by Semisonic
On its own, it would have been emotionally draining enough to see Tyler throw a discus for the last time, as he did earlier this month, after staying with the sport for six years. Or, also this month, Dylan playing in his last concert for his youth symphony after five years and his school's band after eight. Or, Dylan going to his last meeting for Scouts having been with the organization for 12 years. Of course, what makes it all so cruel is that Jenny isn't around to see any of it, despite all the care she put into the boys' activities.
Having a front-row seat Dylan and Tyler's childhood, I can say that every worthwhile activity the twins pursued was because of Jenny's influence. For example, Tyler picked up shot put and discus as both events were out of the spotlight (much in line both Tyler's personality and Jenny's--Jenny lives on in many ways through Tyler), yet just as important as any other track and field event for scoring. And, if there's anything Jenny taught Tyler, it's efficiency. At one home meet, Tyler lined up for the discus event before the visiting team's bus even arrived. Immediately after throwing, he ran over to the cinder area to heave the shot put. He finished second in both events--in other words he scored four points (first place was worth three points, second, two and so on) in the first eight minutes of the meet! With a knack for productivity he could only have gotten from his mother, he proceeded to do his schoolwork at home two hours before the meet ended.
Every day for the past eleven months I've wondered what I would want if Jenny could come back for just a few minutes. More important than interacting with me, I would want her to see her boys and see how much she shaped their present and future. More devastating than my sadness, my lack of ability to focus, or not finding pleasure in things I used to find pleasurable is my regret that Jenny has already missed so much even though it hasn't been even a year. She didn't see, for example, (1) that Dylan, with his trumpet, made the California All-State Honor Band for the third straight year, (2) that during his senior year Tyler hurled a discus far enough to be deemed the 16th best thrower in the history of Mountain View High School, where track records reach back to the 1950s (link here) (3) that Dylan made it to Eagle, among a small percentage of Scouts to do so (stats vary between 2% and 6%), (4) that Dylan went to his prom, his last of school dances he'd been attending since middle school. Jenny and I wanted our kids to go to prom, not least because it was a pleasure denied both of us and we always wondered what it would have been like.
A friend told me last week that, yes, the lasts are hard to take. But, the boys are now about to experience some firsts. There's truth to that for sure. While I will always wish that Jenny could be with me to see those firsts also, I'm grateful that Dylan and Tyler are about to embark on a fresh chapter. Besides, if there's one thing I need right now, it's a slew of new memories.
Closing time, every new beginning
Comes from some other beginning's end
--Semisonic
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