Proud Parents

A friend of mine graduated this week, and I joined her after the ceremony to take pictures and congratulate her. She and her very proud parents were all smiles - it was a really beautiful sight. I was so proud of her myself; I really got caught up in the moment, and reveled in all of the joy.

Being there, I started to wonder why I hadn't invited all of my friends to join me on the grass for pictures as per my university's tradition. It seemed so joyous. Standing there with her, I somehow didn't understand how my own convocation could be tainted with any emotion other than joy or pride.

Then when things wrapped up, I walked home. Alone. To an empty apartment. And thank God I had sunglasses, because I cried the whole damn way.

As soon as I walked away, the images of my grad had shifted from friends like dear M***** congratulating me on the grass to images of my parents hugging me and smiling at me like hers were on that day. Images that are no more than fiction for me. Empty hopes.

It's not fair. Mommy, Daddy: you wanted me to graduate, just like you? You both had your parents with you. I don't.





And I don't know how I can be proud of myself without you there to show me.

Looming Convocation

I am trying so hard to be proud of myself, and to celebrate my accomplishments.

But I keep failing to understand what exactly I should celebrate when in these last four years I've lost so much more than I've gained.

I had a year and a half of the "undergraduate experience," and the rest of the time was spent in mourning. I resent that so much. I resent this institution for being the place I found out they died. I resent my peers for achieving the same degree as me under far more favourable circumstances. I resent my registar for sending me congratulatory e-mails. I resent the fact that I'm graduating with a GPA .01 away from high distinction - in other words, if life hadn't decided to kick me in the proverbial balls, I would probably have a 4.0 with a ton of extracurriculars to put on my resume.

I think what hurts the most is that, when I get up on that stage, only two people in that room will know what I struggled through to get there. Only two.

90

I got a final grade of 90 on my undergraduate thesis. I was so anxious before seeing the grade, and then there it was, and I started crying. I'm not happy. I'm not proud. The mark means nothing to me. I don't care. For once all of my stress, hard work and dedication paid off, and now I get two pen-strokes on a piece of paper. Whoop-de-fuckin-do. I got a 90. Et alors? All of the stress probably cut off a full year from my life expectancy - yeah, that was definitely worth it.

I'm so angry.

I'm so angry that the education that I made so many sacrifices for no longer means anything to me.

I realized a long time ago that (if anything) a college education would have been better suited to me than this, but my parents wanted us to have university degrees and I wanted to fulfill that wish. Now I'm in way too much debt with nothing to show for it. (On that note, there's an organization that compensates people whose lives have suffered from violent crimes. But, apparently, my own experience couldn't have significantly affected me and there's no way I could have experienced shock, so I don't qualify. Fuck you.)

I could have been gaining experiences in these past four years. I could have been building my resume (which currently is an empty piece of crap). I could have been taking time to properly mourn my family. Hell, I could have been at home with them in their last years.

The things I gained and learned from university were not academic, and I feel as though there are cheaper and more fulfilling ways to gain the same education.

Whatever.

Keep your damn 90. Or let me trade it for a hug from my mom.

It's not like a decent transcript is a ticket to good karma.

I'm so angry.

Kocham cię

Kocham moją mamę, bardzo.

(I miss you.)

Nobody's Little Girl

You take good care of him, mama, you hear me? I love you. I love you both. [pause] I'm nobody's little girl anymore.

from Golden Girls; Blanche at her father's grave

Adult Orphans

It might be the natural order of things that parents die before their children, but the sheer inevitability is no cushion to the pain, soul-searching and sheer feeling of rudderlessness that so often follows.

from The peculiar grief of the adult orphan

" When there is no one left who sees you as a child and you have no home to go to when things get rough, it changes how you feel. I am now the one in charge, I can no longer run home to someone. This is my home now. "

from My Husband is an Adult Orphan

Your Joy

Daddy:

From all my memories of you; from all of the old pictures of you with me and my brothers; from all of the letters and e-mails and notes you've ever written...it's obvious that my brothers and I brought you all of the joy in your life - enough joy to live forever.

You would do anything for us, and you always did. You were born to be a dad.

So tell me, Daddy: when did we stop being enough for you? When did we stop bringing enough joy to your life that it was no longer worth living?

After 24 years of being our hero, why did you decide to stop being a dad?

You tell me that.