If Only

I arrived a bit early for my volunteer shift at my granddaughter’s school, so I took a few minutes to watch the senior class at the nearby high school practice for their graduation ceremony.

Leaning against the chain-link fence was an older man, observing them with keen eyes.

I commented, “I bet they can’t wait to be done.”

He shook his head. “I’ve watched them all through high school, and I always wonder how they’ll do afterward.”

He explained that he was the janitor. Over the years, he’d been in every classroom, cleaned the lunchroom countless times, driven the school bus, and—as he was doing that day—helped prepare for graduation.

Curious, I asked what advice he’d give the graduates if he had the chance.

“Oh, they won’t ask me anything,” he said with a chuckle. “Except to tell me a toilet’s plugged or a door needs unlocking.”

We stood in silence for a while, just watching the smiling, excited, soon-to-be graduates.

Then, without warning, he said,
“The one thing I’d tell them is to avoid saying ‘if only’ to themselves.”

I waited, sensing there was more.

“Saying ‘if only’ is a sure-fire way to blame what did happen on what you didn’t do.”

I nodded, hoping he’d continue.

“If only I had studied harder. If only I had worked more. If only I had been there.
Then I wouldn’t be here.
‘If only’ are two words that can become a lifelong excuse.”

I could tell there were stories behind his advice, but he didn’t offer more. We stood quietly, and I reflected on how often those two words had clouded my own perspective.

It was good advice—not just for graduates, but for someone like me, who can easily fall into the trap of “if only.”

So, to the Class of 2025:
Make a plan. Do what you can.
But resist the urge to say, “If only I hadn’t done this,” or “If only I’d done that instead.”

The road to regret is paved with ‘if onlys.’

Give yourself grace as you learn. Don’t let “if only” stop you.