“Good morning, parents, families, and friends of our graduating class,” she begins. “I’m Hannah Pearson, and I was honored by the invitation to be this year’s class valedictorian. I’ve never been big on public speaking, but this opportunity only comes around once in a lifetime, so I decided to get over my stage fright for this occasion. In doing so, I decided to add an element of surprise to my loving family sitting over there in the third row. You see, I failed to mention the part I would play in my high school graduation. So, surprise!” she squeaks, throwing us a wave. Journey’s nails are puncturing the material of my dress pants as she squeezes her hand around my knee.
“How did we not know?” she whispers.
I can’t find the words to respond to Journey, so I continue to stare at Hannah’s relaxed expression as she glances down at her notes. “I’m not sure I’m your typical valedictorian. I’ve accomplished different challenges and met unique expectations along the path of my high school career. Classes came easily to me, making me feel very fortunate. But I’ve struggled with other areas of my life. Everybody has something that’s not easy, but I was always grateful for the distraction of my schoolwork. Never experiencing the anxiety of falling behind or struggling to keep up gave me the time I needed to deal with other things … important things. With that being said, we all have our strengths and weaknesses. I am not an athlete by any means, but I am surrounded by some of the best athletes in this state—several them received full scholarships to the universities of their choice. Some of my other fellow classmates initiated projects that would feed entire villages in third world countries by forming non-profit organizations to raise awareness and money. There are at least a dozen fully fledged entrepreneurs who have already secured six-figure salaries by utilizing their technology skills to create start-up companies, which in turn, attracted interested investors. We haven’t even graduated high school yet, but we’ve succeeded in our own unique ways. It isn’t that we haven’t experienced failure, but isn’t that how you learn? When we fell down, we brushed ourselves off and got back up again.
As for myself, I haven’t chosen a career path yet. I didn’t receive a full scholarship to Brown University, nor have I found a way to save the world. Over the past four years, I have struggled with depression, anxiety, bi-polar disorder, and panic disorder. At first, the doctors thought it was clinical depression, which is not to be taken lightly. I was treated with a low dose antidepressants, which took the edge off my symptoms, but it wasn’t until the beginning of this school year when my dad found a doctor in Boston to take a closer look at my condition that I was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder. This chemical imbalance comes with a whole host of symptoms that vary from person to person and make it more challenging to diagnose and treat.” My heart hurts. My hands are shaking uncontrollably, and I’m sweating profusely. Hannah never had this kind of confidence to speak up. Everything has changed for her this year. It’s like a prison-cell door was opened, and she was finally released into this beautiful world with open arms.
“My heart might explode,” Journey says.
“You were the one who found the doctor,” I tell her.
“We found the doctor, Brody. We searched high and low. Don’t give me credit,” Journey whispers.
“This doctor came up with a treatment plan for me,” Hannah says. “It wasn’t just a prescription or three. It was more. There was therapy and hard work involved. There were moments of highs and lows—which is the definition of bi-polar disorder, but after six months of giving the treatment everything I had, I am now looking forward to my life, feeling like I have the tools to handle anything that’s thrown at me. I can grow and finally be the person I’ve always wanted to be, and it’s because of my family—my family who never gave up on me; my dad for hovering, my step-mom—mom who stepped in and became a mother when I needed one more than anything, my grandparents, uncle, aunt, cousins, and even my noisy, baby sister who is literally a walking bundle of energy.
My life came together for me this year, and today I get to tie a ribbon around everything I have and seal the box that contains the pieces of my past, which in turn creates a future full of opportunity. So, no. I’m not a typical valedictorian, but I’m happy to speak on behalf of my class when I say it’s okay to be different and to have our own strengths and weaknesses. Life would be boring if we were all the same. We started out as a bunch of kids four years ago, and we learned and grew by sharing ideas, hopes, and dreams. Now look at us. We made it to the finish line, ready to venture out into a new world to see what’s waiting for us, and I couldn’t be more proud to be a part of this class. Thank you all for joining us on the momentous occasion today, and congratulations to us!“She called me Mom,” Journey says, quietly gasping for air.
There isn’t a dry eye in my row, including my own. I feel like I’ve been thrown into the sky, and I’m free-falling into a world I didn’t know existed. Hannah’s world. A world she has created and will take on by herself. I didn’t know what we had accomplished until today. Life happens as each day passes, and it blurs together, day after day, but when the big picture presents itself, it’s clear. She has made it clear.
We’re all clutching our chests, staring with awe, left without words. The principal is pressing a handkerchief against his eyes as he retakes the podium. “And this is why we chose Hannah Pearson to be this year’s class valedictorian. Success isn’t black and white. It’s always somewhere in between, as this class has proven.
The minutes between the principal's final words and the list of names being read out loud become a blur until I hear “Hannah Pearson,” called. I watch my little girl walk across the stage with a beaming smile as she shakes the principal's hand and receives her diploma, amongst the sound of roaring applause.
Then, there’s a moment for me. Just me. She looks over and winks as she flips her tassel from one side of her cap to the other, then mouths the words, “Thank you, Dad.”
The last few names are called, and the entire class is standing together on the platform, holding their diplomas proudly. “Congratulations to this incredible graduating class. You did it!” the principal announces.
The caps are thrown into the air, hoots of laughter and cheer fill the air, and I’m completely lost in the moment of the world spinning around me. I didn’t think I was capable of bringing her this far. I doubted myself so many times. It’s hard to take credit.
Arms swing around my neck as my little girl who isn’t so little anymore jumps on top of me. “I love you, daddy,” she says.
“I am so proud of you,” I whisper in her ear. “I wish I had the words to explain how I fell right now.”
“I already know,” she says, kissing me on the cheek. Hannah seems emotionally unaffected by the tears in everyone’s eyes as she scoops everyone into bear hugs, taking Isla on her hip and carrying her down the row of parading arms waiting to grab her.
“I feel like I’m dreaming,” Journey says. “I’m winded or breathless, something. I’ve never felt this way.”
I turn to Journey, seeing the true blissful happiness in her eyes, reminding me how much she loves Hannah, me—our family. I kiss my wife and mutter against her lips, “I needed you to get here. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“I know,” Journey says, smiling against my mouth. “That’s why we found each other again. It was meant to be this way. We just didn’t know it all those years ago.”
Melody is snapping a million pictures of one of the graduation signs. Brett is staring with an empty, fearful look on his face as Hannah poses next to Parker—Parker, who is up next to graduate high school in two years. I know what he’s thinking. We’ve got to figure out how to slow everything down.
But that’s the funny part of life. We can control almost everything except time.
Journey grabs her camera to take over for Melody so she can get some good shots of Hannah while I take a minute to throw my arm around Brett’s neck. “Dude. What the hell? How is she eighteen and a high school graduate? I can’t digest this,” Brett says. “It feels like just yesterday the two girls were wreaking havoc in the warehouse while we tried to get some work done.”
“You know what I’ve realized, bro,” I say. “Fatherhood is like a shot of bourbon Fireball. It burns like hell when it’s going down, but then you get this euphoric sensation of comfort and warmth as the liquid settles, and it just makes you want to do it all over again.”
Epilogue
Four YearsLater
We do this every year on the anniversary of Harold’s death. Journey’s dad left a legacy of bourbon through our family, and it’s only appropriate that we continue to celebrate the way he did, year after year. It was his dying wish, and we have kept our promise since then. The Barrel House has always been a stomping ground for a good party. It’s where Journey and I had our first kiss back in high school. It’s where Melody and Brett had their first kiss back in high school. It’s the place they got engaged, and the place Journey calls a second home. Our families merged businesses over the last several years, and two operations became one, just as two families became one. It’s all kind of perfect.
It was all perfect until the front door just opened, and Hannah and Parker walked into the party.
“Um, what am I looking at?” I ask Journey.
