We are finally ready to close this school year out. Mercifully. Only 12 more uniforms to iron and I will be free for the next three months. The kids are closing out 11th, 9th, and 7th grade in a much better place than the brain fog we were all in at the end of last year. For them, it was the most normal year they’ve had since everything shut down in 2020, and for that I am grateful. It was a year of being able to fully embrace the school environment, extracurriculars, and most importantly, learning.

It’s been a year of learning for me as well, although I’m not so sure that I handled my lessons as gracefully as the kids did.

I learned that like it or not, I can’t do it all by myself. I’ve also learned that I hate to ask for help more than just about anything. These are not two lessons that mesh well together.

I’ve learned that there are just going to have to be some things that I let go. Sometimes, I’m going to have to let the laundry pile up. Sometimes, I’m going to miss a deadline with work. Sometimes, I might not have a column.

I’ve learned that in this house, someone is always going to be having a good day, and someone’s always going to be having a bad day. Balancing and navigating that with the kids means that I frequently don’t get to have a good day or a bad day, I just have days upon days of walking on a tightrope, trying to keep everyone else’s feelings moderated.

I’ve learned that there is always one more load of laundry to do, and it’s usually a pile of towels that someone threw behind the bathroom door.

I’ve learned that somewhere, somehow, someone spilled something sticky down the entire front console of my car, and it resulted in a few weeks of the heat and the fan being stuck on max.

I’ve learned that I’m not ready to part with a single item of Steve’s. While I’ve been able to pack them up, there is still something soothing knowing that I can take them out any time I want. I’ve learned that I can expect to see the kids casually incorporate small items, whether it’s a pocket knife, or a sweatshirt, into their daily use, and find comfort in that.

After recently breaking a kitchen cabinet, I learned that G has picked up a lot more of Steve’s handiness than I had realized. He disappeared into the basement for a few minutes, came back with an assortment of tools, and within a few minutes, I had a fixed drawer.

I’ve learned that having kids in high school who play the same sport and belong to the same clubs is an absolute game changer when it comes to saving my sanity.

I’ve learned that having a teenaged driver is the most helpful thing on the planet, as well as the most nerve-wracking. I’ve learned that I have way more patience than I every thought I was capable of having when I spent most of the year teaching A to drive.

I’ve learned that reminders of Steve can come in every way, shape and form and are usually unexpected. I’ve learned that the kids have gotten a lot better about accepting the occasional tears that flow. I’ve learned that they’ve gotten better about talking about good memories and appreciating the lessons that Steve taught them.

I’ve learned that no matter how far I think we’ve come, we still have a really long way to go. While I know that A’s senior year is right around the corner, and while I know he is looking forward to it and excited about it, I am not just sad because he is on the cusp of leaving the nest and moving on to pursue his dreams, I am sad because Steve won’t be standing beside me through the senior recognitions and all the other “lasts.”

I’ve learned that sometimes the answer to what’s for dinner is pizza, and that’s OK.

I’ve learned that life just isn’t as funny or exciting or as unexpected as it used to be. I’ve learned that there are still pockets of joy to be found but they’ll never be quite as joyful as they should have been.

I’ve learned that unless people have gone through this, they really can’t understand it. I’ve learned that you never wish this kind of pain on others, but sometimes you just wish more people got it. At least without some kind of lengthy, awkward attempt at explanation.

I’ve learned that the only way to keep doing this is one day at a time, one week at a time, one month at a time, one school year at a time, and that’s really the only way to get through it.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing columnist who appears weekly in the Times News.