The Best is Yet to Come

Written following our youngest child's high school graduation in 2023, a reminder to keep looking ahead.

I distinctly remember the first time after having kids that I walked across the park playground not holding one of them in my arms.

It was winter at Land Park in Sacramento and our youngest child who was 13 months old did not want to be carried. He wanted to walk.

I remember thinking, “Will I ever carry my kids in my arms again?”

It probably wasn’t the last time I carried him. But eventually, not too long after that, there was a last time.

And from that early moment in my parenthood, I learned to pay attention to the “lasts.”

I didn’t mourn them because almost always, I didn’t realize they were happening. But as I passed through those precious moments in my life, I recognized them in hindsight.

The last time I carried a baby across the playground.

The last time I read a bedtime story.

The last time I pushed a child in a swing.

The last Little League game I would cheer for.

The last school play.

The last track meet or volleyball game.

So many lasts.

It was those “lasts” I suppose that led me to begin a mantra that would carry me, and perhaps my kids, through their childhood into young adulthood. That mantra – a manifestation of what I needed to believe and what I needed my kids to believe – was this:

The best is yet to come.

I would say it after so many hard days that we thought would never end. Days when kids ate alone at lunch. When friends were mean. When hard-fought student council elections were lost. When they didn’t make the team.

This day might be hard, but better days were ahead for sure.

And I would say it on the best days, days that were so wonderful, you didn’t want them to end. When awards were won, new friends were made, good grades were achieved. So many good days. This day might feel like the best day, but guess what? Even better days are ahead. You can’t even imagine all the happiness that’s yet to come.

Last week our youngest child graduated from high school. On Wednesday morning, I dropped him off at school for the last time. For 19 years, school drop-off has been a cherished part of my life. In later years, it might not be every day, as kids rode bikes, drove or got rides from friends. But on lucky days, when a bike tire was flat or someone was running behind, I would enthusiastically jump in my van to chauffeur them to school. And for the eight minutes it took to weave our way through town, I would soak up their presence next to me, listening to their plans for the day or singing along to whatever new song had made their playlist.

My last school drop off was uneventful. Eight minutes of quality time with my favorite 18-year-old, talking about how to get the wrinkles out of his graduation gown, finalizing details of his family party on Sunday and listening to his music on the car stereo.

And then we were there at the curb with our usual exchanges of “I love you” and “Best day ever.” As he walked away, the song that was playing on my stereo - Macklemore’s Good Old Days – began to cut out and fade as his Bluetooth connection was lost.

As I watched that tall young man saunter away from me, I held back tears and repeated to myself, “The best is yet to come. The best is yet to come. The best is yet to come.”

And I know this is true because for every one of my “lasts,” there will be a “first” for them.

The last time I read a bedtime story? The first time Maev read a chapter book.

The last time I pushed a child on a swing? The first time Emme learned to pump her legs and touch the clouds with her toes.

The last time I watched a child perform in the holiday play? Molly’s first time as a group leader for the little ones.

The sadness that I felt when I realized I would never again carry a child across a playground or drive one of my kids to school cannot begin to compare to the joy I felt as I watched Mick stride across the stage on graduation night. Or to the excitement he will feel as he heads off on a summer trip with his friends. Or to the pride and anticipation he will feel as he begins his next adventure as a confident and independent young adult.

For every last, there will be a first. A first love, a first college graduation, a first job, a first apartment, a first baby, a first promotion. So many firsts.

The best is yet to come and I can hardly wait.