By Cathleen Monahan
MPA ESP 2008

Commencement falls at that interesting intersection between the old and the new, marking a moment
between an ending and a beginning.  The Columbia-wide graduation ceremony on May 21st was indeed a reflection of what has been accomplished, and a foretelling of the impact the class of 2008 will have in a world that desperately needs positive change. While sitting with my fellow SIPA graduates, I considered the commonality of support that each of us had received somewhere along the way to this day.  I thought about all the stories, all the moments and all the conversations that had propelled us to Columbia.  I wondered whether other graduates could pinpoint a person or a time or a specific occurrence that led directly to their degree the way that I could.  I only know my own story in its entirety, but it’s one that has an element of universality, and it seems to embody commencement itself, standing somewhere between the cycle of possibility of what was, and what will be.

Exactly two years ago I faced the other way at the Columbia
graduation, as I sat in the audience with my parents scanning the law
school class for a glimpse of my older sister in her graduation
regalia.  I couldn’t find her in the crowd, but in the immediate
vicinity I couldn’t help but notice the huge number of vibrant flower
bouquets that it seemed as though every family except for us had
brought.  I remember commenting to my dad that we should buy some for
her, because I thought if I were graduating, I’d want some flowers for
sure.  My father looked at me with a slight chuckle, and replied in his
Yankee-moved- to-Atlanta Southern drawl, “You know what C-girl, if you
ever graduate, I’ll bring you the biggest damn bunch of flowers I can
possibly carry.”  The image that followed was instantly burned into my
minds-eye:  my dad, a massively tall and large conservative man, with
his arms so full of pink peonies that he could barely see to walk, was
just hilarious but somehow gripping.  Without much hesitation I told
him there was no way that would ever happen, because on the
road less traveled that had been my life experience, I had hit some
major roadblocks, some of avalanche proportions.  He turned to me with
his classic line “Now I’ll be frank with you…” and took off his aviator
shades to make eye contact.  And he told it like he saw it, which was
that I was absolutely capable of going here, I just needed to remember
how intelligent and talented I was, and really it was only a matter of
trying and believing. “The past has passed, don’t let it define you,
the future is yours, you just gotta grab it and you can.” Somehow his
words stuck, and I’ve never forgotten them.

That was the last day I ever saw my dad.  He died unexpectedly
several months later, and I started a graduate program at SIPA a few
months after that.  It was a tremendous loss, the loss of my father,
he was my biggest fan and my always-friend. We had this crazy bond
since childhood and it had never wavered.  And now it was just gone.

My dad understood me and I think, sometimes anyway, enjoyed watching
the interesting path my life had taken. He loved the ocean, so me
moving to California from North Carolina for a liberal college, and
even me leaving that college to go to Hawaii for a year he could
tolerate more than, say, me dropping college to travel around the
country and see the same band play every night, or deciding to promptly
put my bachelor’s degree on the shelf and become an artist.  But we are
in so many ways the same person, we love nothing more than to hit the
road, watch the game, throw back a few beers, play some golf and just
chill on a boat or a beach somewhere. I’ve seen hundreds of basketball
and baseball games and played so many rounds of golf with him, he was
just the kind of person you wanted to be around, and well, he didn’t
miss one of my tennis matches in four years of high school, so I know
he relished spending time with me also. He was a complete lover of
life, he had a great sense of humor, and he would stop the world for
his two daughters.

Until his death, I had never realized that “grief-stricken” is a
literal condition, and that your heart can actually ache inside of your
body. It can, and mine did. For awhile I walked out of my way around
campus to avoid the memories that lay in the grass by Butler library.
But after some time, I knew I was missing something. I think when we
lose something big or small, we return to the point where we lost it to
try to find it, and often end up discovering something else. For
instance, I lose my keys, and in searching for them I find the extra
remote in the sofa cushions along with $1.75 in change. I must have
revisited that last face-to-face conversation with my dad a thousand
times looking for something else, and finally finding it. And that
universal, graduation-related truth is this (no, it’s not
earth-shattering but maybe you can find something here also):  Part of
the human condition as parents is to want what’s best for your kids, to simply want the best for them, but I hadn’t realized parents (and others also) can actually see the best in you, and particularly at a moment when you can’t.

My dad didn’t see my mistakes, he only saw my potential. And it was
a potential I was completely unable to see myself at the time. I hope
my story might spark some fellow graduates and non-graduates alike to
think back to those moments when someone was able to see the best in
you, to lend support and encouragement when perhaps you had given up
hope. Despite how accomplished and talented the members of the class
of 2008 are (and we certainly are), I doubt that anyone can say that
they got to this graduation day alone. I would bet we can all think of
at least an instance or time when someone pushed us onwards, toward our
potential that we had for whatever reason lost sight of. Remember to
truly thank those people amidst the well-deserved commencement
celebrations.

I have a few unwavering beliefs, such as everything happens for a reason
whether or not the purpose is apparent to me at the time. And I know
now that my final conversation with my father was meant to propel me on
a path that I wouldn’t have found otherwise. Luckily I also believe
that only love is eternal, which makes everything else really nothing.
I miss my pops terribly, but I love him even more, and that is
something that will never end. This one’s for you dad…. RIP.

Photo 1:  My proud father at Columbia graduation 2006