gratitude and graduation
reflections on "endings that are not over" and what to do with what you have
In my AAPI studies class, I learned about “endings that are not over.” This concept was proposed by scholar Yen Le Espiritu, who wrote about the Vietnam War and its long-lasting effects on the Vietnamese population. The idea of “endings that are not over” posits history as an active participant in the present.
I’ve been thinking about this concept quite a lot, not particularly in the context of war and trauma but rather in the everyday context of “endings.” During graduation season, the question of “endings” and what carries on after people graduate seems more relevant than ever.
This year is the year before my graduation. It feels more personal than previous years, not only because I’ve started thinking about when it comes my time, but also because I’ve had a lot of friends in the graduating class of seniors.
Many of them probably don’t know how much they’ve meant to me, even if I tried my hardest to let them know. To me, they’ve been role models, inspirations, and most importantly, they’ve been reminders for me never to forget to be grateful.
On top of recognizing their own accomplishments, these seniors all bring up gratitude in their posts and messages as an essential part of the process of graduating. Some thank the school, some thank friends and family—but the common denominator is always the same.
I haven’t thought much about my own high school graduation since it happened. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I spent most of my high school counting down the days until I graduated. But I also recently realized that confronting my past is necessary for moving forward. The “ending” of my high school was never really over, as it took years for me to find forgiveness.
Keeping my past in mind has helped me practice gratitude. Sometimes, I worry that I’m weighed down by my past traumas, that maybe I’m at fault for letting them haunt me. However, I slowly have begun to realize that I’m redefining who I am and my past with every new thing I experience; in that way, my past “endings” are “not over.”
The day before this year’s graduation at my college, I had done a four-hour round trip to see Fall Out Boy, one of my favorite bands, perform at a festival. I got to spend time with a friend and also met plenty of wonderful new people, two of whom were Matt and Cassie, a lovely couple who kept my friend and me great company as we stood on the festival grounds for 10 hours straight.
I’ll never forget when the set ended and we bid our goodbyes. Matt asked me if he could pick me up in a hug, and his six-foot-something self lifted me up in the air as he embraced me and thanked me for the incredible festival experience.
Forty-five minutes later, it hit me in a Taco Bell bathroom: people like Matt, who have shown me kindness, are the reason I have been able to confront difficult “endings” from the past and get closer to a feeling of belonging. Especially during my high school years, I don’t think I could even begin to imagine being able to do the things I love and meet people who give out compassion and care so freely in a way that has fundamentally shaped my current self.
Some thank the school, some thank friends and family—but the common denominator is always the same.
I find myself often returning to my post about dreaming big. I have experienced so much since I wrote that post. In fact, there are many posts on this Substack that I no longer resonate with, especially ones I wrote at the very start of this newsletter’s inception.
In some ways, each post is an end. It represents a moment in time, a fleeting feeling I’m attempting to capture in words. It plays a stationary role, unmoving and still.
In “dreaming big,” I write about my past self, something I continually revisit and reconsider. Applying the framework of “endings that are not over” has helped me make peace with this internal conflict to some extent, as this phrase acknowledges that we should continue to honor the past while not losing sight of what’s happening in the present.
Graduation is a moment. Gratitude is ongoing. Graduation is an accomplishment, and accomplishments don’t need to happen in spite of one’s past. They don’t need to happen because of one’s past either. Accomplishments happen alongside the past. They can coexist in a world because there will always be enough space in our lives for us to change.
After the festival, I drove back to my college and returned at 3 in the morning. I woke up at 9 am the next day to attend graduation, or commencement. I cheered as every one of my friends crossed the stage. Oddly, that moment didn’t feel like a goodbye or even a see-you-later; it was another “ending.”
One thing that hasn’t changed from my “dreaming big” post is the statement that where I am today is where I once dreamed of being. But maybe if we’re being more accurate, I couldn’t have possibly dreamed of being this fortunate and grateful for
I won’t forget the ways I’ve been changed by those in my life, even if they are no longer around. Graduation season may be over, but the immense impact of gratitude and love doesn’t have to be.