My parents never paid for my education. I started working at 15 — summer jobs, part-time work, night shifts through college. I paid my own way, every step.
I resented them for it. Whenever I brought it up, my mom would say, “We did our best.” But every summer, they somehow had money for vacations. I never forgave that.
I relied only on myself. I worked relentlessly. And today, I graduated from medical school.
My parents came to the ceremony. But I asked them to leave.
I told them their seats had been given to Mr. Ellis and his wife. Mr. Ellis was the man who truly supported me — my first boss at a resort, my mentor, the one who believed in me when I was exhausted and doubting myself.
My mom didn’t argue. She just smiled quietly and left.
That night, she called and asked me to stop by.
When I arrived, she handed me medical test results. She’d been diagnosed with a serious illness a month earlier. They hadn’t told me because they didn’t want me distracted during finals.
Through tears, she said I had taken away what might’ve been her last chance to watch me walk across that stage.
Now my graduation feels heavy with guilt.
Did I go too far by cutting them out?
Or was I protecting myself for too long?
I don’t know how to feel anymore.
