The Things They Miss

"For everything hockey gives… there are quiet things it takes away."

Homecoming week always stirs something in me.

The photos flood my feed - the dresses, the suits, the flowers pinned just right. Smiling parents taking pictures on the porch before sending their kids off to a night they’ll remember for years. It’s all so familiar… yet so foreign.

Because our boys never had that.

No asking a date to the dance.
No fumbling over what to say, no awkward group photos, no dinners or after-parties.
While their friends made memories under soft lights, ours were making sacrifices under bright ones.

He didn’t even live at home during high school.

While others were learning to navigate hallways and heartbreak, he was learning to live with strangers who became family- chasing a dream that asked for every ounce of him. And of us.

Sometimes I wonder if he’ll look back and feel like he missed something.
Will he wish he’d known what homecoming felt like? The excitement of asking someone to dance, or the simplicity of being part of that world?
Or maybe he’s relieved. Maybe he doesn’t feel the loss at all.

Because hockey gave him something different - lessons in independence, resilience, responsibility. A brotherhood that ran deeper than most friendships. But still something in me aches a little when I see those pictures.

Because high school isn’t just about school - it’s about growing into yourself, learning how to connect, how to risk rejection, how to belong.

And hockey, for all that it gives, quietly takes some of that away.

Every fall, when homecoming week rolls around again, I’m reminded of that trade the one so few ever see. The things they miss, as the price of the dream.

These are the quiet costs- the ones we never talk about, but always feel.