A letter arrived for my youngest son, Jayson, the other day, trumpeting the news that we’d been treated to just the day before via an electronic announcement: He had been accepted to Seton Hall University. Jay wants to take the three-plus-two master’s program in international relations/diplomacy. It was, at once, the best and worst news.
As a private school, the cost to attend SHU is higher than the average school, at $50,000-plus per year for tuition and fees (not including room and board, which is generally another $10K). Even after a substantial scholarship offer, I still had to gulp hard at the shortfall that will need to be covered. We’re thinking about doing a coin drop at one of our local intersections or a crowd-funding marketing blitz…hey, I’m keeping all the options open.
For kicks and giggles, I researched how much it cost to attend a private institution in 1971. It was a shade under $3,000 per year, which is an inflation-adjusted $18,580. Attending a public school that same year would set you back $1,550 a year, or $9,320 in today’s dollars. The conclusion is rather obvious—the days of being able to work your way through college are long gone. That puts 18-year-old high school seniors (and their parents) in a precarious position: Bite the bullet and take out knee-buckling loans, all the while hoping your child’s career aspirations don’t do a 180-degree turn…or go the community college route and transfer to a university for the final two years.
We’ll continue to ponder the possibilities (work-study, ROTC, loans, scholarship opportunities, home refi/equity line of credit) and will formulate some kind of game plan. Jay is the third of our three kids, and I’d love to see him follow his brother and sister’s footsteps by attaining both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree. I’d like to think I have one more smoke-and-mirrors trick left in my bag. Hell, maybe I can mortgage the house, go to a roulette table in Atlantic City and put it all on red.
After researching past college tuition rates, I decide to hop onto Facebook and share my findings with the masses. Like every Gen Xer, I’m confident that people hang on to my every word and it would be a crime against humanity if I didn’t enlighten my friend list. But before I could keyboard my indignation, I was frozen in my haughty tracks by the post of a high school classmate, Caroline. In it, she wished her daughter, Meagan, a happy 23rd birthday. I’ll share it with you:
“Happy Heavenly Birthday, my beautiful baby girl. Today would have been your 23rd birthday. I miss you more than anything my sweet Meagan. Sending you so much love, hugs and kisses!”
Meg was a study in contrasts. She was every bit as beautiful as her mother, who frequented the pageant circuit. But she had a thirst for adventure that included riding motorcycles and dirt bikes. Meg was also the only female player on her town’s youth football team for about a three-year period.
Moments in Time
When Caroline remarried about 12 years ago, she had a picturesque ceremony in Tuscany. I recall seeing the beautiful images of mother and daughter, clinking champagne flutes, resplendent in dresses white as swans and equally elegant. It was the epitome of a fairy-tale wedding, with memories to be long cherished.
In early 2022, Caroline posted that her father, an Army lifer, had passed away following a short illness. And it was roughly three weeks later that she posted, “Our beautiful Meagan has gone to be with God.” It was the most improbable one-two heart punch imaginable. Caroline’s faith carried her through this anguishing period, but one can only surmise how tough it must have been just to get out of bed during the days, weeks and months that followed. Sara McLachlan once wrote about a “glorious sadness that brings me to my knees,” and this is the level of devastation that comes to mind.
I sat motionless, staring blankly at birthday wishes certainly more bitter than sweet. I cannot imagine a world without my children, and I never want to. I clicked the heart reaction on her post, then closed Facebook. My friend list could make it through one day without my inane babbling. And certainly not on this day.
A parent should never have to bury a child. Caroline’s daughter is forever frozen in time, locked within wedding photos and mother’s memories. My own son will move forward with his future, hopefully one that far exceeds my own. Caroline had the same hopes and dreams for her daughter that I have for my son. She is left with tears and thoughts about what could have been.
It certainly puts the headaches of the day in proper perspective. And it was a reminder for me to count my blessings and be grateful. Just in case I need a jostle, I can count on seeing another “happy heavenly birthday” wish in another year.
Wishing you and yours a Happy Thanksgiving!
