A Precious Moment

It was a familiar feeling the day we got the notice in the mail concerning Marcus's cap and gown...apprehension. It was the first outside reminder to me that Marcus would soon graduate from Ashley Ridge High School. The little invoice for these customary tokens didn't cause me to reflect on the passing of time, or even impart to me an impression of Marcus's achievement. No, The first thought in my mind was of Marcus pulling at his gown, dropping his hat to the floor and rising up with anxiety written all over his face midway through the ceremony wishing nothing more than to be in his van and on the way home. Those of you who know me, also know of my son's, Marcus's, autism. He is on the severe end of the spectrum, and has never spoken a word in all of his 21 years. He now lives in a group home, and is a sweet and happy hand full for his caregivers.

When we arrived at the school just this evening, we saw someone quickly exiting the front of the school. He was in cap and gown and the wind was blowing his cap back as he quickly darted toward the parking lot. It was Marcus. Close behind him was a caregiver frantically trying to catch him before he darted into harms way. We couldn't help but chuckle at recognition of him. This was so like him. Ready to leave even before the families and guests had arrived. We tried to sneak into the buliding knowing that the sight of us would only add to his anxiety and confusion. We picked out the back corner of the auditorium, but some of the other special education graduates started to gather near where we were seated, so we moved in closer to the stage hoping to blend in with the crowd. Soon after, Marcus's teacher approached us a little anxiously, and we both knew there was a problem. Just as I had first thought, Marcus didn't understand why he was brought to the school during non-school hours. This disruption to his routine meant only stress to him. He was not happy with his outfit, and just wanted to go back home. His teacher asked us if it would be okay if they brought Marcus up before the the ceremony to walk the stage out of sequence. We said that would be fine. Soon after, we saw Marcus enter the auditorium wearing his cap and gown walking with his teacher. They made an announcement that Marcus would receive his certificate before the ceremony. They announced that the first graduate of the evening was Marcus Hamilton Miller. They walked him across the stage to much applause which pleased me, but probably confused him. I tried to get a photo, but everything happened so quickly that I didn't have a chance to steady and focus. He was off the stage and gone as quick as that. They then announced that the ceremony would commence in 2 minutes.

We stayed and watched the other students graduate. A couple of fellows came up and gave their very best effort in leading the pledge of allegiance. There was something sweet about it, and I felt a tear form in the corner of my eye. Isn't it funny how certain little moments so hard to predict or define can evoke such sudden emotion? One of the boys stood up and walked toward the stage making what I can only describe as happy sounds. Another fellow smiled and pumped his fist as he walked with help across the stage...again I felt that little tugging at my heart. It was a short but truly touching ceremony. Marcus didn't understand the meaning of the event, and was much happier to sit it out; still, my eyes couldn't help but wander to the empty seat on the stage where my big boy was supposed to sit.

After the ceremony, there was cake and punch in the hall. We walked out, and I looked around hoping to see where they had taken Marcus. It was now safe to see him after the ceremony and give him a congratulatory hug even if he didn't know why, but he was no where to be found. I returned to the auditorium and asked his teacher where I could find him. She apologized and said they had taken him back home. I walked back out to the foyer holding my punch but walking alone. I told Bobbi and my parents that 'Marcus had left the building.' Just my attempt to distract with funny little words that embarrassing little moisture forming in the corners of my eyes.

Marcus was a handsome boy tonight in his cap and gown. Congratulations, son.