He was there

Last Sunday, Jim and I rose before sunrise; we showered, shaved and dressed. After taking care of a few last minute chores and packing, we grabbed our coffee to go and hit the road. It was a beautiful autumn morning and we chose to drive a little out of our way to avoid a reported detour along I-95 (that we learned later turned out to be misinformation). Our more westerly route through the country turned out to be very pleasant with no traffic hassles. It dumped us onto I-95 in Fredericksburg. From there we sped south heading for North Carolina. It's a familiar road as we've traveled it well over the years and one that normally causes us much angst, particularly during the summer months when traffic back-ups are an all too common occurrence. Sunday mornings in mid-October are a different story (at least the further away you are from northern Virginia!) and it was smooth sailing for us this time. Somewhere near the state line, I had begun to grow weary, apparently my caffeine fix had worn off. I pulled off the highway and into a gas station where we switched drivers.

Back on the road, the highway was soon flanked on either side by stately rows of tall pines like sentries guarding our way. Peeking through and beyond the trees, I spied miles of snow-white fields of cotton, most certainly ready for harvesting. Little Blue (our Honda Fit) carried us across bridges spanning brackish swamps and rivers named Neuse and Tar. I knew then that we were closer to our destination and before long we were exiting the interstate, driving through the quaint, small southern town of Benson making our way west passed farmland and country homes toward Buies Creek.

Shortly before one o'clock we arrived at Campbell University where Erin is enrolled in the School of Osteopathic Medicine. Students and family members were already entering the convocation center to await the start of the class of 2017's White Coat ceremony, scheduled to begin at two o'clock.

Having never experienced a White Coat ceremony, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. It turned out to be a beautiful, moving experience. The presentations and the keynote address were interesting and truly inspiring, but the ceremony itself was the most poignant. The student doctors lined up with their advisers, waiting for their names to be called. As his name was called, the student walked across the stage, handed his coat to his adviser and he/she and the dean of the medical school "coated" him. If a student happened to have a relative or mentor who was a physician he or she was invited to "coat" the student doctor. After some time, it occurred to me that if Jim's dad had still been alive he could possibly have been there to "coat" Erin. 

Grandpa Fred was a pediatrician and a great inspiration to Erin. He was the kind of doctor one rarely meets these days; the kind of doctor Erin hopes to be one day. He devoted generous chunks of time to his patients and really got to know them and their families. He did not define his patients by their various ailments or illnesses; he recognized each patient's inherent dignity and treated them with compassion and love. He was gentle and fun.

Sitting there in Campbell University's convocation center Sunday afternoon, I thought about how proud Grandpa would have been of Erin, and my missing him at that moment caused tears to pool and my chin to quiver a bit. When I was able, I leaned over and whispered my thoughts to Jim. He smiled, shook his head in agreement and his eyes, too, brimmed with tears. It was a raw, beautiful moment. 

It was a truly joyful moment as well; we couldn't be more proud of Erin. We knew, too, that Grandpa was there. I could feel him there. I could see him, smiling broadly (he had the best smile), "coating" Erin and drawing her to him with those marvelous hands of his; those hands that had healed so many and so often offered comfort and an invitation to trust.

Yep. He was there.