My two greatest accomplishments in life: Petty Officer 3rd Class Shane Banzhaf of Alexandria, Va., and Private 1st Class Jeremy Meyers of McCook. (Gloria Masoner) [Click to enlarge]

It was déjà vu. There I stood in a room full of strangers, happily hugging one another and reacquainting themselves with their loved ones.

While Shane, my oldest son, was at my side -- I still felt alone. Someone was missing. I began milling around looking at the faces of all the young men and women wearing their neatly pressed dress greens and berets. There were a few who -- for only a moment -- looked like Jeremy -- my youngest son. But at a second glance, I would realize that it wasn’t him and I felt a twinge of disappointment.

I had left for Baltimore from McCook at 5 a.m. Monday morning. Shane picked me up at the airport at about 9 p.m. and we made the 70-mile drive down to Alexandria. We were up by 8 the next morning and, after dropping off Shane’s pooch at the vet for boarding, we began our 11-hour trip to Fort Benning, Ga., for Jeremy’s graduation from boot camp.

It has been an up and down ride for Jeremy throughout training. Three times I received letters telling me he was going to find a way to get out of the “mess” he’d gotten himself into -- but that was at the beginning.

As the letters continued to come, they became more positive. They were moving away from the physical training and beginning the “fun stuff,” like throwing grenades and shooting guns. He decided maybe he’d stick it out.

I rode the wave with him. My stomach tied in knots every time I read a letter that said he couldn’t do it. I knew he could -- but I couldn’t pick up the phone and tell him that, he had to figure it out on his own.

And he always did. I’d write a letter back in response to his letter telling me he was giving up, and before he could get it, I would get one from him saying everything was going well. It became a little confusing.

But in the end, he did make it and by the time you read this column today, Jeremy will have graduated from boot camp and be preparing to move on to AIT in Fort Jackson, S.C.

It was eight-and-a-half years ago that I first found myself in this situation --looking around frantically for the teenage son that had left me, while I stood crying at the door of the airport, to join the United States Coast Guard, flying off to a destiny that I could no longer control.

This time, I walked up to a group of young soldiers standing together and asked if they had seen Pvt. Meyers, just as the question left my mouth, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

The moment I turned I realized why I had such a difficult time finding my son. He was no longer a child. I was staring into the eyes of a young man.