The title is not something I’m saying to my mom (though truer words from me could not be spoken), but rather, it reflects the look my son gave me as he exited the car for school this morning. Today is Fifth Grade Graduation Day. I could not be prouder of him.

B prepares to attend tonight’s ceremony having endured more than any child should have had to endure. He lost one of his parents before his kindergarten graduation. I attended that ceremony in a fog of grief and watched it through tears. We have moved a total of six times since then. He lost his grandfather and, more recently, his great grandmother who he adored. Both were from Jeannette’s side of the family, so he tears up a little when he talks about how everything about her is getting smaller: her family, his ability to remember details about how she looked and sounded… It breaks my heart. The helpless feeling of watching my child grieve so many times is one I have hated having to experience.

Still, we both walk into this ceremony stronger and more confident. He now has two parents who will be in attendance this time, who will be smiling and joyful. And though we prepare for a 7th move next week, it is to permanence and “happily ever after.” He is the strongest boy I know. He made it. We made it.

Ashe.