As I walked onto the school grounds for our children’s end-of-year graduation ceremonies, I heard the sweetest sound – a little girl asking her father, “Daddy, are you proud of me?” My heart softened instantly. In that moment, I was reminded of the profound role a father plays. On her special day, the one thing she longed for most was his approval, his presence, his affirmation. And kudos to that dad – for showing up, for letting her feel worthy, valued, and seen.
Walking into this day, I expected nothing but elation. Our girls had done exceptionally well, and we couldn’t be more proud. But what I didn’t anticipate – or perhaps temporarily forgot – is that even on the most celebratory of days, there is always another side.
In our youngest daughter’s class, a little boy hid behind his certificate, sobbing uncontrollably – heartbroken that his parents weren’t there to witness his achievement. While some children basked in the glow of their family’s presence, his feeling of absence was impossible to ignore. My heart broke for him and a pull to nurture him and make it all better arose inside me. Yet in that moment, a beautiful thing happened. His classmates became teary in empathy for him, hugs were given and shared moments of sorrow were allowed in. All of a sudden vulnerability was in the room and permission to feel existed.
In our oldest daughter’s class, alongside the cheering and the clapping were the quiet goodbyes: children leaving for new countries, moving on to high school, shifting paths. We celebrated, and we cried. I heard the girls telling the boys “It’s okay to cry” when the boys couldn’t contain the emotion that welled up.
Because the truth is – all moments and situations have complex emotions. Because joy and heartbreak often coexist in the same moment.
I realised I hadn’t prepare my girls for the complex emotions graduation brings (because I hadn’t even prepared myself). It represents an ending and a beginning all at the same time. These layered, colourful moments brought me to this reflection:
Parents, guardians, and loved ones – our children need us! They need our presence, our approval, our witnessing. Not perfection. Not grand gestures. Just us.
These moments reminded me that childhood – and parenthood – are filled with emotional dualities: joy and sadness, beginnings and endings, pride and heartbreak often sitting side by side. What our children need from us is not the removal of these complex feelings, but the safety to experience them. When we model vulnerability, give permission to feel, and honour the full spectrum of their emotions, we teach them resilience, empathy, and emotional truth. Our presence matters – but so does the way we hold their inner world.
I also want to express my gratitude to UFS International for a truly beautiful ceremony. I saw the joy and heartbreak in the teachers’ eyes – their cheers, their tears, their pride. You have a remarkable way of making every child feel seen, valued, and held. You create a campus that feels like family – A campus where children have empathy and acceptance of one another. What a gift!
May this post encourage us to be present with those we love. And if you couldn’t be at your child’s graduation, perhaps there is still a small way to celebrate them at home – a moment, a gesture, a simple acknowledgment that says, “I see you, and I’m proud of you.”
Presence is powerful.
Let’s choose it whenever we can.
Consciously,
Bronwyn |
