a tale of two graduations

my brother graduated from high school on monday. he went to a 'special learning' school full of kids with down's syndrome, autism, developmental disorders, and severe cerebral palsy. he was part of a graduating class of two; the other graduate was a girl with down's named lauren.

it was a stark contrast from my graduation, which happened the day before. two hundred medical school seniors, dressed to kill (ahem), walked across the mahogany stage in front of a thousand people and were hooded in green velvet. it is the sign of a medical doctor being born, an achievement that each of us has earned with a truckload of blood, sweat, tears, and government loans. our commencement speaker, a physician and commander in the navy, started his speech by listing the emotions he felt at his own medical school graduation: pride. excitement. anxiety about his first night on call. we let out a cough of nervous laughter - it was the only time during the ceremony that my class made a sound.

looking around, i found in each pair of eyes the same thing that is often in my own - fear. we have come far, but there are still miles left to go. we are about to be under the gun once again, only this time, in many ways, we are the ones holding the gun.

my brother's graduation, on the other hand, was nothing but magnificent. there were no nervous laughs, no anxious eyes, no fears for the future. two proud families sat in the front rows as my brother and his friend bumbled down the center aisle, gleaming with pride. they had to be guided when to sit and stand, they forgot to flip their tassels, and during a few celebratory songs, the sign language they'd learned would have left a deaf person rolling on the floor with laughter...but i have never seen him so proud. he was applauded by the most pure-hearted and odd group of friends anyone could ever meet; his diploma was awarded to a gutteral chorus of joy let out by those who were in the grades behind him. he stood there with this smile that could have lit a darkened room by itself. as he recessed, my own face was beaming with pride.

nothing i have ever accomplished could compare to that graduation. all of college and med school pales in comparison to someone the world calls 'retarded' making his way through 21 years of life. the world is not kind to those who can't keep up, but they have so much to teach us. they are not afraid; they know they are cared for. they are proud of the little things, because they are not enamoured by their own capabilities. in a world where everyone is out for himself, they are out for each other.

so really, tell me who has the world figured out - a graduating doctor or a graduating mentally handicapped boy? one fears the future, and the other believes he has nothing to fear.

i am very, very proud to call him my brother.