The grief when children graduate high school is real—and God meets us right in the middle of it. One mom shares how her tears led her to the comforting truth that He sees and holds every single one.
Last night I cried in the shower.
I have not done this in a while. But the grief was suddenly overwhelming. My three youngest children – who are all the same age (triplets) by the way – are inching ever so much closer to their high school graduation on May 28 this year.
For about a year now I was completely aware the time and season was drawing near. Now that spring is here, most of the “lasts” are crossed off my list and I am down to just a few.
I had just witnessed the arrival of the last prom dress for one of the girls. A yellow strapless ball gown was not only vibrant and whimsical, it was also poignant and sentimental.
Her sister had just finished a stunning performance in the high school musical. Vases of flowers in the form of accolades were taking up my counter space and the songs were still fresh in my mind.
I held it together somehow when she took that final bow. A third sister was busy anticipating their graduation party while making announcements online with urgency so that her friends could “save the date.”
My house was a buzz with the expectancy of the spring season as three 18-year-olds seemed to be at the cusp of all they had imagined since they entered school all those years ago.
I sat in my corner of the living room with a firm grip on the inside of my bottom lip with my bottom teeth, holding back a quiver.
At one point when no one was home but my husband and I that evening, he looked at me and asked if I was ok.
I nodded silently and continued to stare blankly at the TV.
Not satisfied with my answer he asked if everything was ok with work. Did one of our daughters get sassy with me? Were my parents ok? Am I “just stressed”?
“I’m ok.” I said.
Earlier in the day as I left my office, an old friend from church pulled his truck beside my car. I didn’t even see him until he knocked on my window. I rolled it down as he said, “You looked pretty upset walking out of there. You should smile.”
I chuckled at the suggestion and insisted, “This is just how I look. “ We both laughed. I pulled away and blinked back tears.
Late that evening I decided to get my evening shower.
As the hot water descended upon me, I felt the tremors in my body start to surface. The tears came in small drips and then cascaded quickly onto my face in the steam of the shower. I leaned against the wall of the shower and sighed deeply as the grief hit me.
Grief.
No one had died. No one had even moved away.
Why was I so sad?
Finding God in the Grief When Children Graduate High School
Then I remembered the past moments I had cried like this in the shower.
I was exhausted from being a work-from-home mom with triplet toddlers and a kindergarten student.
I wanted everyone to be potty trained and for tantrums times three to just end so I could get a shower in silence. The overwhelming feeling of loss of control nearly broke me in that season of life.
That shower time was the only moment I could be alone and feel. Really feel.
“When will this end?” I had asked myself as the tears dripped off my cheeks onto the shower floor.
Now here I was, fifteen years later. Same sobs. Same loss of control. Only now I was asking, “Why does this have to end?”
The school years swept in so rapidly and seemed to be slamming me against the wall like a tidal wave, sweeping memories out to sea.
I lied to my husband. I was not ok.
I eventually got myself together and went to bed.
One of the girls opened the door to our bedroom, poked her head in and said. “Good night, mom. I love you.”
I softly echoed the sentiment and put my head back on my pillow, brushing away one last lingering tear.
It was embarrassing for my family to see me cry over something as silly as the passing of the time. Teenagers would never understand this crazy perimenopausal mom’s weepy moments.
“Hold it together,” was what I told myself repeatedly this entire senior year.
And then I couldn’t. All those tears came out and I couldn’t stop them.
I know my Father holds my tears in a bottle:
“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book,” – Psalm 56:8 (NLT)
Those tears from those toddler tantrum days are in the same bottle and same book as these grieving pre-graduate tears. And there are more to come.
He is not indifferent to our cries. He does not see one tear as unnecessary or overreacted.
I truly have had moments where I believed no one understood my grief. I was wrong.
I later told my husband that I was not ok.
Though his ‘dad feelings’ were not akin to my maternal wailing, he was as understanding as a triplet dad could be. He grieves as well, but differently.
If you’re in a season of grieving your graduate, whether you have one, two or three of them in the Class of 2026, know you are not alone.
Do not feel embarrassed when you need to cry in the shower.
The Lord is collecting every tear. He’s got you.
And as you blink through it, remember his showers of blessing. A new chapter is beginning.