I lean over and whisper in his ear, “I’m sure the calming measures I’m thinking about would not be well-accepted here.”
He laughs, and I love seeing a little bit of his tension leave him.
We move as a unit toward the entrance, our footsteps falling into an easy rhythm on the paved path. Kay walks slightly ahead, already spotting familiar faces in the crowd.
Inside, the murmur of voices grows louder, echoing off high ceilings and polished floors. The air conditioning raises goosebumps on my arms, or maybe it’s the weight of the moment finally settling in. All around us, families huddle in small groups, their voices a symphony of pride, nervousness, and joy.
And then I see him—Leo, making his way through the crowd in his cap and gown. The sight hits me like a physical force, and I grab Constantine’s arm to steady myself. Our boy, who used to carry so much pain and fear, now stands tall and proud in his academic regalia. The gown doesn’t quite hide his slender frame, but his smile could light up the entire auditorium.
“Connie! Dad!” He reaches us in a few long strides, and I pull him into a tight embrace, mindful of his cap. Maybe it’s because I met him only a short time before Constantine and I starteddating, but I’ll never not love that Leo sees me as more of a father figure than a big brother.
Constantine joins our hug, and Athena worms her way between us all, offering her wildflowers. “These are for you, Leo!” she announces proudly. He accepts them with exaggerated ceremony, tucking one behind his ear with a flourish that makes her giggle.
The overhead speakers crackle to life with an announcement about seating. Leo straightens his gown, his fingers brushing the fabric with a mix of pride and disbelief.
“I should probably go line up,” he says but lingers for a moment longer.
I watch him take in our little group. Constantine still holding the banner, Athena practically vibrating with excitement, Kay and Emma standing close together, my own undoubtedly watery smile—and I see in his eyes the recognition of what we’ve built together. Family, in all its beautiful, unexpected configurations.
As he turns to leave, Constantine calls out, “Hey, kid.” Leo pauses, looking back. “We’re so proud of you.” The words are simple, but they carry the weight of years of late-night hospital visits and medication schedules, of triumphs and setbacks, of love that grew stronger with each challenge.
Leo’s smile wobbles just slightly, and he nods once before disappearing into the crowd of other graduates. I stand there watching the space where he was, feeling Constantine’s steady presence beside me until Athena’s small hand slips into mine. “Come on, Daddy,” she says. “We need to find our seats so we can see Leo get his diploma!”
She’s right, of course. I let her lead us through the crowd, Constantine following with the banner, Kay and Emma bringing up the rear. The excitement in the air is palpable now, crackling like static electricity before a storm. As we settle into our seats,I catch Constantine watching me with a soft expression that still makes my heart skip a beat after all these years.
The graduates file in like a river of black robes and square caps. The microphone squeals once before settling into the dean’s measured tones, but I barely register the words. Constantine’s hands are trembling, so I do what I feel like I was born to do. I hold his hands between mine and anchor him.
Athena squirms in her seat between us, her small stuffed elephant clutched tightly to her chest. Constantine gently reminds her to sit still, but I understand her restlessness—it mirrors the nervous energy coursing through my body. The dean’s voice drones on about tradition and excellence and future prospects, but all I can think about is Leo’s journey to this moment.
My mind flashes back to that first day Leo walked into my coffee shop with Constantine. The way his gaze was filled with weariness. The late nights of studying while managing his medication schedule. The gradual transformation from a frightened young man into someone who faced each day with quiet determination.
“When will it be Leo’s turn?” Athena whispers, loud enough to make Kay smile from her seat on the other side. Her girlfriend leans over to explain alphabetical order, and I watch their heads bent together in quiet conversation. The sight makes my heart swell—this family we’ve built, piece by precious piece.
The names continue: Anderson… Baker… Chen… Each student walks across the stage to polite applause, but I barely see them. My eyes drift to the section where Leo sits, watching him fidget with his cap, straighten his gown, and glance over his shoulder toward us. Even from this distance, I can read the nervous excitement in his posture.
“Francis…” The dean’s voice continues, and I feel my heart rate accelerate. Getting closer now.
“Galanis, Leo.”
The name rings out across the lawn, and suddenly, I’m on my feet without conscious thought. Constantine rises beside me, still holding my hand. Athena bounces up and down, her elephant dancing in her arms. Through eyes suddenly blurry with tears, I watch Leo stand and make his way to the stage steps.
His walk is steady, measured, and full of a grace I never could have imagined during those early days when he thought the world would never accept him.
The dean extends his hand, and Leo takes it. The handshake is firm, confident. I’m crying openly now, not even trying to hide it. I slip my arm around Constantine’s waist, supporting him as he claps for his brother. Through the tears, I see Leo accept his diploma, see his brilliant smile as he turns toward the audience.
“He did it,” Kay whispers to her girlfriend, but I hear the words clearly despite the applause. “He really did it.” Her voice catches on the last word, and I glance over to see tears tracking down her cheeks as well.
Athena is practically levitating with excitement, her small voice rising above the general applause. “That’s my big brother! That’s Leo! He’s a doctor, you know?”
Several people around us chuckle at her enthusiasm, but I hear the warmth in their laughter. They understand—how could they not? This moment is magical.
Leo pauses for the official photo, then makes his way down the other side of the stage. I watch him return to his seat, noting how he walks taller now, as if the achievement has physically transformed him.
The ceremony continues, more names called, more graduates cross the stage. Athena settles back into her seat, but her excitement remains palpable. She keeps whispering to herelephant, recounting Leo’s walk across the stage as if the stuffed toy might have missed it.
Kay leans forward in her seat to catch my eye, and we share a moment of wordless understanding. She’s been an important part of Leo’s support system, a friend who understood his struggles in ways we couldn’t always reach.
When the last graduate crosses the stage, there’s a moment of profound silence before the dean begins his closing remarks. I barely hear them over the rushing in my ears—the sound of pride and joy and relief all mixed together. Constantine’s hand finds mine again, and I lean into him, letting him feel the full weight of the moment.
