Ending A Phase

Yesterday was my oldest daughter's last swim meet. There was no coverage of the event, no banner headlines in the paper, no records set and no formal announcement of any kind. But to her it was a big deal, as it was a torch being passed from one phase of her life into the beginning of another.

I wasn't there, as has been the case far too many times in her life. Mind you, I think I'm a pretty great dad, as I'm monumentally supportive, loving and involved in a great many things she's done, but I wasn't there yesterday. My job involves travel, which makes it also involve prioritizing WHEN I'll be there. Because I'm on the road about 35 weekends a year, I have to figure out which concert, recital, meet or event weighs more heavily than another. This year, showchoir and orchestra take precedent over swimming for my girls.

In a few weeks I'll be a parent chaperone on a four-day trip to Chicago. Later, I'll be a "proud as can be papa" at orchestra concerts and scholarship banquets, take my daughters on a getaway day to ride rollercoasters at Cedar Point, and eventually drive my oldest on a 5-day cross-country sojourn to California Baptist University where she'll begin a tremendous adventure in her next phase.

But yesterday was her last meet,....perhaps ever. Swimming had early on been a passion, then a job, then a source of tremendous stress for my princess. One of her favorite parts was always singing the national anthem at home meets (beautifully, I might add) then being one of the team's loudest cheerleaders for her compadres. The greatest compliment her teammates ever gave her happened earlier this season. Although never one of the fastest members of her team, her sportsmanship, supportiveness and leadership abilities got her voted as one of three team captains!

But yesterday was her last meet. I remember her being the crying 6-year old whose illegal starts, strokes and turns got her disqualified from every event she entered in her first meet. I remember the excitement in her face the first-time she broke 5 minutes in the 400 IM. I remember how funny she looked and how proud I was when she was the high-scorer at a divisionals meet a few years back, clad in a turquoise and black polka-dot full-body suit.

My wife had her coaches and teammates talk about Morgan on a videotape yesterday. They love her and will always remember her as part of what made the team fun to be a part of, beyond the 24 state titles and Olympic trial qualifiers. Her little sister (a vastly improved freshman on the team) will always remember the early morning rides to practice with her, primarily spent in silence with both trying to wake up for another grueling work out.

Even though she's not moving to college until August, my heart aches and I miss her almost unbearably already.

As one phase ends, another begins.