Dear Kindergarten

Hello old friend,

It’s been 3 years since we last met.  Three years ago you welcomed my daughter with open arms and promised to instill in her the love for learning.

You did that.  You loved our girl and gave her incredible gifts of friendship, of knowledge, of laughter…a foundation to build on for a lifetime.

We will meet again tomorrow…but this time…we are looking to you to love our most fragile heart, hold him close, and teach him well.

Kindergarten – you don’t know this – but you have been our guidepost for the past 5 years.  Our wishes and hopes and prayers have always been, “Let’s get him to Kindergarten. Get him to 5 years old and from there…well…let’s get him there.”

Our prayer, dear friend, seemed an impossible one.  Statistics weren’t on our side.  How does one have any kind of hope when the moment you find out about a diagnosis you’re told there’s a 90% chance he won’t make it to 5 years old.

So you see, tomorrow, when we hand our boy over to you, it’s not just another day, it’s the day we looked towards, prayed for, hoped for…longed for.

So, yes, friend, you will see tears.  These tears are not just the normal tears of parenthood and this milestone our boy has achieved.

Tomorrow, I will cry for my friends in the Heartland who will not get this day.  They see excited pictures and posts about other Heart warriors on their first days of schools – their arms empty and their hearts broken for the child they love that won’t get this day.

Tomorrow I will cry for the memories etched in my soul of the moments I cried out in desperation for my boy to live.

Tomorrow I will cry for the fear that is ever present with every breath my boy takes.  I will cry because no matter how “good he looks” he really will never be truly normal.

Tomorrow I will cry for the scars on his body that are a testimony to his struggles.  His struggles…not mine.  The struggles and the battle wounds of a boy that did not ask for all the hurt…but fought through the surgeries that cracked open his chest, stopped his heart, and a heart that had to find a way to beat again.

Tomorrow I will cry for that same heart that continues to beat.  The heart that beats as my boy runs, and plays and laughs.

Tomorrow I will cry for the memories he will make.  For the friendships, the laughter, the days of normal that he fought so hard to have.

Tomorrow I will cry because despite my fears my boy is fearless. He looks at challenges and doesn’t say “I can’t”…he looks at them at says, “Just watch me…”

So watch him, Kindergarten.  Watch the boy who lived squeeze every last bit of joy out of the day. Watch him learn and struggle and conquer.  Watch him love the friends he will make. Watch him love the day you call routine and find adventure in the mundane.  Watch him.  Just take a step back and watch a little boy live a life that was never promised and make memories for his lifetime.

Because dear friend, you’re about to welcome a boy who will love you, hold you dear, cling onto the days…because that was always our promise to him.

Hold him close, love him dear, teach him well and he will surpass your every hope and prayer.

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