I've been busting my ass-- therapy, healing, research, doctors bills, overtime, two jobs plus school-- and you have the nerve to not call me to offer me congratulations! Not only am I finishing my Associate's Degree, but I'm transferring to a four-year school to finish my Bachelor's Degree, and that at a school that doesn't let just anyone walk in and take classes.
I called to tell you, left you a message with the news, and it took you a week to call me-- when you did, all you had for me was "That's good. It's too bad we won't be in town for something else that weekend, now we have to make a special trip. Depends on the weather."
I'm graduating. What more special f*cking reason do you need?
I don't need you. I didn't need you when I was awake all night beating my head against the wall trying to figure out calculus. I didn't need you to decide that I needed to go to the VA hospital and figure out this PTSD stuff. You weren't there to save me when it happened again, and again-- the whole reason I have to deal with PTSD, the trauma itself, that which took away my childhood and a good portion of my life. You didn't do anything about it when I told you, either. You suck.
You had a chance to do something, anything, and you didn't. And now you don't care that I'm recovering, healing, and by all accounts kicking ass in this life thing. You suck.
I'm not only graduating, I'm putting myself through school. My military service, my GI Bill, my student loans, my two jobs, my classes and my homework. I did this myself, in spite of the fact that I have PTSD to deal with. It's all me. Not you. Me.
You'll tell your friends that I'm graduating, you'll tell them that your son is going to the University, and they'll be impressed-- you liar. You know you're not proud, you know you don't care, because if you did you'd be tripping over yourself to figure out how to get here for my graduation ceremony. You will take the credit though, just like you always have. You suck.
You suck. Stay home. I've made it through school this far without you, and I can graduate and transfer to that University without you, too. So much for Mom and apple pie.
At the bar, or the restaurant, or where ever I end up celebrating, there will be an empty place setting-- my Dad, a WWII veteran, didn't live to see me walk across the stage and receive a college degree, nor will he see me at the University I'm transferring to in January... but he was the one who always told me that I could do anything I wanted to do, if I set my mind to doing it. Ya know, he was right.