*Class of 2026, it’s not until I had you as freshmen that I started my silly tradition of giving “unsolicited dad advice.” It is, perhaps, a tradition that will end with you as well. As we enter the closing days of our time together, I can’t help but share a few more words before it’s all said and done. I may write a few more of these before May 12th. I hope you find them meaningful. 

Good Goodbyes

Only a handful of days remain in this season of your life called "high school." And as this season of your life ends, I know many of you are experiencing a lot of strong feelings.

Graduation is often one of the first major goodbyes we experience in life. You are about to say goodbye to your childhood, your home, your friends, and your family–the place and people who have shaped you. In that sense, graduation is a big deal. 

These goodbyes–good goodbyes–matter. 

As a teacher who watches graduates walk out the door every May, I’ve learned a lot about goodbyes, and I want to share a few thoughts.

Say the words that need to be said. 

We all carry the pain of unspoken words.

Sit for a moment with this question: Which words, and from whom, would most bring you healing or peace? Chances are, those words would come from someone you really care about. Likely, those words would be some form or combination of “I love/appreciate you,” or “I’m sorry,” or “I’m proud of you,” or “You mean a lot to me.”

We may yearn for a parent to say, "I'm so proud of you" or "I'm sorry for the ways I've wounded you." We may yearn for a former friend to tearfully whisper, "I'm sorry for the pain I have caused." We may yearn for someone to throw their arms around us and exclaim, "My life has been so much better because you were in it." Or we may yearn for someone to gently say, "I forgive you."

And if we could only hear those words, so much pain and doubt and grief and regret would begin to disappear.

Consider, too, the words you wish you had spoken to a departed loved one, a long-lost friend, or a long-time crush. We carry the burden of the words we desperately wish to hear, but we also carry the burden of the words we desperately wish we had spoken. Sometimes, we never get a second chance to say those words.

So many words in this world remain unspoken because we’re hurting or because we’re terrified of being vulnerable or awkward or rejected. We’re scared of how our words might be received or perceived. 

Please don’t allow your fear masquerade as indifference. Please don’t let fear be the reason you leave words unspoken.

Sadly, not everyone will give you the goodbye you are hoping for. You can't control the goodbyes you receive, but you can control the goodbyes you give. Your goodbyes can be good ones, and you can speak the words that need to be spoken–the words that heal. 

I would challenge you to speak the words that need to be said. Tell people what they mean to you, how they inspire you, how they’ve impacted you, or how much they’ll be missed. It doesn’t need to be anything profound or even personal. Tell someone you’ve enjoyed being in classes with them, or how much you like their laugh, or the one thing you’ll always remember about them. The older I get, the more I realize how much we all want the same two things. First, we want to be seen and heard. Second, we want someone to tell us that we’re okay–that we are good enough, that we are loved, that we are appreciated, that we are admired. I passionately believe that sharing words that make people feel seen, heard, or cared for--but they must be both kind and true--are the greatest gifts we can give. Please don't let those words go unsaid. 

Likewise, there is so much healing and so much power in the words “I’m sorry.” Saying sorry doesn’t excuse the behavior or the pain, but two amazing things tend to happen when we offer an apology. First, the person receiving the apology feels seen and heard because you’ve shown them that you see their pain and acknowledge your part in it. You show them that their pain matters and that causing them pain has pained you, too. Second, you’ll find that a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Do it for them, but also do it for you–for your own sense of integrity and peace. Leave ERHS knowing that you’ve attempted to heal the pain you may have caused, even if that pain was unintentional. And if you’re the recipient of an apology, please receive it with grace. Someone has seen you and acknowledged the sorrow they have caused you. They are trying to make amends. And that’s a very kind and brave thing to do. 

Please make amends while you have the chance. You won't regret it.

Class of 2026, I have always implored you to live a life with no regrets. Speak the words that need to be spoken and leave with your head held high. When you walk out the doors of ERHS, leave behind the gift of a lot of really good goodbyes. Don't leave behind regrets. 

Say your goodbyes to this place

How do you say goodbye to a place that will always hold your childhood? How do you say goodbye to a place that holds a piece of your heart? How do you say goodbye to the fireweed in September, or to the aurora, silently dancing above the moonlit mountains in December, or the breathtaking light on the mountains in February? How do you say goodbye to the endless light of summer, or the smell of campfire smoke on your clothes after a camping trip with friends, or the softness of the tundra under your feet?

You’ve grown up on the edge of the Alaskan wilderness. For many of you, these mountains, rivers, and forests have become some of your most faithful friends. 

Many of your families are moving away from Alaska this year. And even if your family has put down roots here, you might, at most, come home for a few holidays during the school year. Maybe you'll have a few more Alaskan summers before internships, grad school, military obligations, or careers take you far, far away.

How do you say goodbye to a place? What does a good goodbye look like when you’re saying farewell to Alaska and a piece of your childhood? That may be one of the hardest goodbyes of all. Make it a good one. Drink up every moment of beauty between now and then. Spend time in the mountains or beside the river, making sure you say goodbye to those faithful friends, too. 

One last adventure.

Here are some ideas as you contemplate these upcoming goodbyes. 

1. The Adventure: Put a date on the calendar now for “one last adventure” with your friends before you all depart. Despite all the good intentions and heartfelt promises, with so many of your families moving out of state, there’s a good chance there will come a moment this summer when you and your friends will be all together, all at once, for the very last time in your lives. Acknowledge that. Make this last adventure special. Put aside all the weird dynamics, petty bullshit, or past drama. Plan one last adventure, knowing it might be the very last time you’re all together. Savor every moment. Forget everything else. Make it count. 

2. The Campfire: If possible, make sure your last adventure includes a campfire. There’s something hallowed about friends gathered around a fire together–somehow, all the words and silence and laughter feel more significant as you gather in a circle watching the dancing flames. Better yet, have everyone write a reflection on the significance of these past years and the love and memories you have shared. Have everyone read those reflections aloud as you sit around the fire. Say the words that need to be spoken. Make it an unforgettable night of laughter and tears and memories. 

The Spot: Finally, if you or your friends are moving away, make a pact. For instance, if you all share a special spot in nature, make a pact that, for the rest of your lives, if someone visits that spot, they send a picture of themselves in that spot to the rest of the group, even if it’s been a decade since you’ve last spoken. Places hold power. Even if you’re never all together again, every time you return to that place, you share in that connection with all your friends, no matter where they live, what their lives look like, or how long it’s been since the earth has felt their footsteps. Maybe you return to that spot in the darkest moments of your life and remember past joys. Maybe you return 25 years later with your own children in tow, sharing that special place with them too. Maybe you will never return at all. But that space will always hold memories and echoes of your friendship. It will always be waiting for your return...