My Parents Didn’t Show up for My School Graduation — Their Excuse Is Ridiculous
Hi to all of you. I have to talk about something that has been bothering me a lot for a while. I was really proud of the day I graduated from school a few years ago, a day I had worked so hard for. I couldn’t wait to tell my parents and other family members about this accomplishment as I felt like they had helped me along the way. But I’ve been plagued by their absence that day ever since.
Enthusiasts in their caps and gowns, family applauding, and cameras flashing all over the place made the ceremony exuberant. Sitting with my classmates, I felt both anxious and excited as I waited for my name to be called.
I was looking around for my parents, thinking they were somewhere among all the faces, maybe even out of my direct line of sight. Keeping reminding myself, “They’re probably running late,” “Or perhaps caught in traffic. They are going to arrive shortly.”
One by one, I kept looking around, attempting to find them as their names were shouted. My pulse would race whenever a door opened or someone moved in the audience, only to fall back when it wasn’t them. I repeatedly told myself that they couldn’t possible overlook this. Hey, it’s my graduation, come on.
It was my turn at last. As I approached the platform, my heart was racing. I shook hands with the principal, picked up my diploma, and then cast another look out at the crowd, expecting and praying to see the thumbs up from my stepdad or a pleased smile from my mom.
However, nothing was present. With a fake smile for the camera, I returned to my seat while the knot in my throat got worse by the minute. I hurried to the relatives’ gathering after the ceremony in the hopes of seeing my parents there.
I reasoned, “They have to be here somewhere.” I glanced at each group as I moved around, growing increasingly frantic. I decided to check my phone after a while in case they had texted me regarding a delay.
There it was, my mother’s message. When I opened it, my heart skipped a beat because I thought it would include some small detail that had kept them away. However, what I witnessed left me speechless and heartbroken.
Sorry, we were unable to attend. A situation involving your stepsister arose. Later, we’ll rejoice. Congratulations!”
My hands were shaking as I stood there, fixated on my phone. “Are you kidding me?” I pondered. “What could have possibly been more important than my graduation?”
Iris, my stepsister, who has always been the focus of their attention, had clearly acted out in some way. However, what might have happened this time?
I suddenly felt someone’s touch on my shoulder. My prom date, Justin, was there. With worry on his face, he said, “Hey, are you okay?”
My attempt to talk was thwarted by the words stuck in my throat. My eyes began to bubble up with tears, which quickly trickled down my cheeks.
Mrs. Anderson, Justin’s mother, noticed what was going on and intervened right away. She pulled me into a cosy hug and whispered, “Oh sweetheart, come here.” “You’re not alone, we’re here for you.”
They congratulated me, let me into their family photos, and made sure I didn’t feel alone. I’m not sure how I would have survived that day if it weren’t for them.
However, as the day wore on and I witnessed other families enjoying themselves, the hurt returned with a vengeance. The mystery of my parents’ absence tore at me no matter how hard I tried to solve it.
After the celebration with Justin’s family, I hurried home, fearing what I may discover because I wanted to know what had happened.
My parents were there when I got home, idly watching TV as if nothing important had happened. I stood there for a while, trying to take in what I was seeing.
It was a calm day, with my parents appearing at ease and the house being silent. As I entered the living room, I could feel my rage rising.
“Hey, where were you guys?” My voice trembled with a mixture of hurt and rage as I asked. “You missed my graduation.”
My mother sighed and appeared a little ashamed. She said, “Your stepsister broke a nail.” She threw a fit and insisted that we take her to the beauty parlour right away so that it could be corrected. Britt, she was quite distressing.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, so I just stood there in disbelief. “A broken nail?” I raised my voice and reverberated. “You missed my graduation because Iris broke a nail and had a meltdown?”
I couldn’t even see my stepsister, who was kicking back on the couch, caring. “It was an emergency for me,” she shrugged.
Feelings of hurt, anger, and incredulity raced through me. How could they put such a small matter ahead of such a significant turning point in my life?
I could feel my chest constricting as I tried not to cry. I became aware of how unbalanced my parents’ priorities were at this point. This was the breaking point, but they had always indulged her.
“Are you serious?” I yelled. “Do you even realise how much this meant to me?”
Unable to meet my gaze, my mother averted her gaze. “We apologise to Britt. I swear, we’ll celebrate later.
However, it was already too late. The harm had already occurred. That’s when I realised I had to do something to let them know how much they had hurt me.
With tears running down my cheeks, I stormed up to my room. I opened my closet and began packing my things. I was too small for this place, and I couldn’t stay. I needed to be appreciated somewhere.
Trembling, I called Justin’s family. Mrs. Anderson, good evening. I have a favour to ask of you. However, I’m not sure how to.
“Go ahead, Brittany. What’s that?” Mrs. Anderson answered in her charming voice.
Can I spend some time with you guys? I need to go because my family and I are at odds.”
Justin’s mother made no hesitations. “Obviously, my dear. Here, you’re always welcome.”
I packed fast, propelled forward by my rage. My parents were still on the couch, looking stunned, when I got back downstairs.
With a frigid voice, I said, “I’m leaving.” “I need some time away from this house, from you.”
Mom attempted to stop me. “Britt, please don’t do this. We apologise.
I was unwilling to hear it, though. “It’s past due. I had to leave.
With my heart thumping, I left the room. I knew I had to defend my rights, even if it was a difficult choice. I had to let them know how much their hurtful remarks and callous actions had affected me.
In the ensuing weeks, I concentrated on developing my personal life. I worked, gathered money, and eventually purchased my own flat. I disregarded my parents’ calls and messages when they attempted to get in touch with me.
I needed time to recover and to let them know that I took the repercussions of their behaviour seriously.
I made the decision to give my parents another chance years later, when I had moved out and established my own life. I thought that by reaching this milestone—my college graduation—I would give them a chance to turn around.
I wanted them to be a part of it all, in spite of everything that had transpired. Perhaps, just perhaps, they would understand how much I valued their assistance.
I continued looking for my parents throughout the ceremony, trying to make out their faces amidst all the other happy families. However, similar to the last instance, they were nowhere to be seen.
I looked at my phone after the ceremony, expecting an explanation. My mother left a message there. I was shaking as I opened it.
Sorry, we were unable to attend. Iris, who is expecting, was wanting a particular dessert from a bakery in the next town over. On the way back, we got caught in heavy traffic. Later, we’ll rejoice. Congratulations!”
I was having trouble understanding what I was reading. They were caught in traffic attempting to satisfy Iris’s cake need, so they missed my college graduation. It had a recurring feeling. Beyond that, though, I realised that not much had actually changed.
“Britt, you were a fool to think that they would turn up this time. I’m hoping you’ve finally realised your mistake.” Tears ran down my cheeks as the voice in my head repeated these hurtful comments.
Not long after, Justin discovered me. He murmured, “They didn’t come, did they?”
With tears welling up in my eyes, I shook my head. “No, they didn’t.”
He drew me into an embrace. “I’m so sorry, Britt.”
His family was waiting for us when we got there, and they greeted me with the same warmth and kindness as they had years before.
Justin and I had become closer over time, and finally we moved in together. His family had shown me so much love and care, something I had never experienced from my own parents.
I thought back on the day’s events later that evening as I sat in our flat surrounded by congratulations cards and flowers from friends.
Although the anguish persisted, I realised something very important: sometimes the people you expect to love and support you unreservedly can let you down in the most excruciating ways. But their deeds don’t determine your value.
I was lost in my thoughts when Justin approached and took a seat next to me. “You know, Britt, no matter what happens, you’re amazing,” he remarked as he gently held my hand. You’ve come so far, and I’m so happy for you.
As I met his eyes, a sensation of warmth shot through my chest. “I’m grateful, Justin. Without you, I don’t know what I would do.”
Grinning, he took my hand in his. “I’ll always be here.”
I knew I could conquer any obstacle and find my place in the world with Justin at my side.
Looking back, I’ve seen that certain people can still let you down, even if you give them another chance. That’s alright, too. It’s a reflection of their incapacity to recognise it rather than your value.
Though it has been fictionalised for artistic purposes, this work draws inspiration from actual individuals and events. For reasons of privacy protection and story improvement, names, characters, and details have been changed. Any likeness to real people, alive or dead, or real events is entirely accidental and not the author’s intention.
The publisher and author disclaim all liability for any misinterpretation and make no claims on the veracity of the events or character portrayals. This narrative is given “as is,” with the characters’ opinions being their own and not those of the publisher or author.