Nathan is my friend that is an opera singer. When I went to operas with Nathan in college, he would - from the balcony - stand up at the end of the event and shout BRAVO so loudly and clearly that I am certain everyone in the theater heard him.
Next to Nathan, my voice felt small. My applause felt like not enough. I was in awe. But I couldn't bring myself to shout my cheers. I stood next to him and applauded.
When I became a parent, and I first saw my children do something - I was so overwhelmed with how awesome the world is - that a small child can just DO SOMETHING - ANYTHING - that at the end, I summoned my inner Nathan and shouted "Bravo". And I noticed that no one else did this. I thought it was a little odd, but I think that a lot, so I didn't dwell on it much.
I realize now that many people might have taken that moment as a cue and become a little more subtle. I did not. I have not. And I don't regret it.
When my niece graduated from high school -which felt like such a big and important deal to me, she walked across the stage and I could not help myself. I shouted "Bravo". And immediately, I cringed inside a tiny bit because I knew it would end up on my brother-in-law's video, and I was thinking that I should have been a little more reserved so that my voice wouldn't be blotting out whatever other cool things were happening. But I was so proud of her and I was awash in happy feelings of my own graduation and if there was any chance for her to hear me, I wanted to take it.
A few months ago, she reposted the video, and she was not at all miffed that my "bravo" stood out, but instead said it was how she knew I was there, and that it meant a lot to her. I told her that was how I was going to wake her from a coma if she ever fell into one - and I was only a little bit joking.
This summer, Helen was in a theater production and on the way there, she said "Mom, at the end, just clap. Do not say "bravo". Everyone knows it's you and it's embarrassing". To which I said "For real? Don't you want to know I'm there. Don't you think how boring all the other people in the audience must be?" And she said "actually, yes, do whatever you want". And I could tell, the way only a parent can, that she was actually having this conversation to point out that I better keep being me.
At the performance, I shouted my "bravo" at the end, and her friend next to her looked at her and said "Helen, your mom is here!". And they had a little conversation about it, and Helen was beaming. That other girl's mom? Sitting right in front of me.
I think a lot about what I'm leaving for my kids when I'm gone. And I really do hope that when they are older, and I am no longer in the audience, there's a little voice in their head, that mimics mine.
