Dear Valerie,


You were a second-grader sprawled on our kitchen floor, surrounded by white paper doilies, red and pink heart-shaped sheets of construction paper, a pen and a bag of miniature York Peppermint Patties.


“Wouldn’t it be nice, Mommy,” you said as you assembled your valentines, attaching a wrapped candy to each, “if people would love each other EVERY day ’stead of just Valentine’s Day?”


My emotions whirled. Pride, for a daughter with a beautiful heart. Sadness, knowing that the world does not love us every day. Hope, for a time when it might.


I can hear you. I can see you — your hair was pulled back in a rainbow-colored clip; you wore a sweatshirt, but your feet were bare — as if it were yesterday.


Then how can it be that two Sundays ago, Mother’s Day, I watched you graduate at the top of your class from Rollins College in Winter Park, Fla.? How can time fly ... and yet stand still?


Maybe because it was Mother’s Day, or maybe it would have happened anyway, but throughout the course of your commencement ceremony, I heard two speakers at once.


Farmworker advocate Ann Kendrick, for example, gave the keynote address urging you and your fellow graduates to “stay engaged ... don’t be part of the ‘whatever’ generation.”


I listened to her; but I was also hearing your 2-year-old voice announcing out-of-the-blue: “Mommy, God make me happy. God nice.”


College president Lewis Duncan quoted our late great neighbor “Mr. Rogers” — Rollins’ most-renowned alumnus?! — “It is worth the struggle to discover who you really are.”


I heard it; but I had a flashback to you, at 2½, admonishing a pesky older brother: “Stephen, be quiet. I had a hard day.”


When they announced your name and you walked on stage to accept your college diploma, I saw a 3-year-old dashing up to a church altar, dancing a little jig ­­— much to the shock/amusment of the pastor! And that little girl spun around and called out, “Mommy, I love you!”


And as I scanned the faces of the proud families of graduates gathered at the Alfond Center, I’m sure I heard an audience laughing during a high school performance, as you worked the flighty, nasal-toned role of Hedy LaRue: “A secretary was ordered to be assigned to you. I’m your as-sig-nation.”


Valerie, throughout your youth, you helped younger students realize their goals; you bolstered the spirits of the elderly; you comforted and adopted abandoned or injured pets (we still have some of them at home — feel free to come and get them!); you served as a confidante to those who needed a listening ear; and you made me laugh with just-the-right barbs at just-the-right moments.


Never satisfied with a “whatever” approach to life, you took your “assignation” here on earth seriously. You have always worked hard, academically and for the benefit of others. And sometimes it was a struggle. But I hope you will conclude that it all, indeed, has been “worth the struggle as you have come to discover who you really are.”


In my own heart, I have come to discover you are still that second-grader who wanted the world to be a nicer one. And because of you, precious daughter, it is.


Congratulations, Val Gal. We love you!


Love, Mom




Anne Koenig is editor of the Living section. E-mail: akoenig@lnpnews.com. blog comments powered by Disqus