You are pledging,
binding yourself to something bigger,
something that holds you up
even when you forget how to stand.
You are growing into your own soul,
stretching into the space
that was carved for you long before
you knew how to fill it.
You are learning how to love,
not just to be held,
but to hold,
to let softness live where doubt once did.
You are stepping forward,
wearing the weight of expectation
like it was made for you,
like you were made for it.
All of you—rising.
All of you—calling me to witness.
But this is not about me.
It never was.
Still, the absence is there,
a shadow in a room where light gathers.
To watch from afar,
to know without seeing,
to miss without meaning to.
One day, regret will find me,
remind me that the greatest present
was always presence.
And I have never been good at giving gifts.
Seeing you all rise,
seeing you all love,
seeing you all become—
but never being there to see it.
Damn me.
Damn this distance.
I am—so, so, so, so—happy for you.
Happier than my hands can hold.
Happier than my words can stretch.
Happier than I deserve to be,
from this distance.
To see you reach heights—
To see you reach your heights—
so many people will get to see you thrive.
Just not me.
And I am so happy for you.
So happy,
with a sadness that lingers,
quiet, patient,
never leaving.
