I was visiting my Father-in-law the a few weeks ago, and he made the comment that “There comes a time that you do things for the last time.” Sometimes it’s by circumstance, sometimes it’s by choice. In his case, he was referring to changing the brakes on his Suburban. Because of the difficulties involved he decided that if they ever need to be changed again, he would pay to have it done instead of doing it himself.

Last week, I had one of those “last times”.

I took care with my preparations. Everything had to be right. I cleaned, shaved, and set about putting everything in place. Meticulous care had to be taken. For 21 years this day has been the goal, and now that it is here, all I could focus on was the routine. I’ve been planning this ceremony for weeks, but as the start time gets closer, it seems more unreal.

I’ve heard that clothes make the man. There is a certain amount of truth to that, but only if the clothes mean something to the person wearing them. See, this suit has meant a lot to me. I knew who I was supposed to be when I was wearing it. It was a persona that I had carefully crafted over the years, and for two decades had identified who I was. In this suit I was calm, confident, and able to handle whatever situation I was faced with. The longer I wore this suit, the more comfortable it became….and now I was putting it on for the last time.

The clock runs down, and the words begin. Introductions, singing, prayer, the words of a friend, and the reading of letters and awards. Most of it passes in a blur. Then I’m announced, and its time for me to speak. Emotion floods me. There is a nervous energy I can barely control. I laugh and cry my way through, my body vibrating with unrestrained energy.

Then it’s over. The ceremony is done. I laugh and talk with family and friends for a while, and the world settles. The time has come, and for the last time I take off the suit.

Suddenly, I feel exposed. I’ve gone months without wearing it, and never felt this loss. Just the knowledge that I will never wear it again strips away the armor that it gave me. So much of the fabric of who I was is irrevocably woven into that material. That suit, removed with care and hung with pride, will forever represent that person I was and the achievements made while I wore it.

Now I stand, uncertain, without the armor that protected me for so long, ready to move forward. I will miss it from time to time, and will always look fondly on the time I spent wearing it, and the the person it helped me become. But a new adventure awaits, the suit has served its purpose, and prepared me for what is to come. It has given me the strength I need, and I can move forward without it.