Your Dad Would Be So Proud
Maybe he would. But I hate when it’s said.
I kept it a secret for two years.
Enrolled in an online master’s degree program, I kept my studies to myself. There was no real reason to hide my continued education, other than to avoid questions about classes and to duck snarky comments from certain immediate family members.
After living on my own for long enough, I didn’t mind holding things in. Sometimes it’s easier that way. To not say a word until crossing the finish line. Maybe it’s my way of controlling the narrative, though in reality I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.
When the time came, I had the school ship the degree to my mom. Over the phone one evening, she told me a package arrived. I told her to open it. I’m not sure if the reveal surprised her, but after reading the details she collected herself and said something I’d heard far too often.
“Your dad would be so proud.”
Your dad would be so proud.
It’s a line I’ve heard many times over the years. From relatives. From my mom. From people who knew him more and me a little less.
Since his rather sudden death fifteen years ago, it’s a line I’ve never really known what to do with.
