Hating Convocation Ceremonies

I never did want to go for this Friday's convocation ceremony til I heard they are slapping me with a two day pay cut and a letter of warning if I didn't go. I told Wendy a few days back why. I can't remember if I've ever mentioned to anyone, but here's why.

When I graduated from NUS, I thought that convocation was a big deal. In a way, I felt proud that I had crossed three years of one the most difficult times in my life. It didn't matter that I wasn't doing my honours by choice because of the opportunity cost incurred. I was proud that I was graduating.

Mum and a family priest were going to watch me as I received my degree scroll on stage, and I was thankful for their presence. They said they'd be at Kallang Theatre later since I had to report some two hours prior to the ceremony. But what I didn't expect when I reached three was to be greeted not only by graduates like myself, but a whole herd of accompanying parents, fussing over their sons and daughters about how they should look in their convo gowns. I was the only graduate standing alone with her gown, not even knowing if I looked OK in it.

I may have been a little emotional at that point in time, but I felt like crying. No, I didn't blame mum for not being there to make sure I looked OK, but I guess deep in my heart, I was reminded of the incomplete family I had. As I stood there in line alone without a friend (cos most of my close friends were scheduled for other ceremonies), I must have been the saddest graduand. I fought hard to hold back the tears as another graduand's mother came to me to adjust my convo gown. Maybe God sent her...

I tried to look happy after the ceremony as mum and Fr John Lee brought me for a meal at Country Manna. I remember going back to work after the ceremony just to drown myself with work. That way, I could forget about how I felt in the morning.

I guess the feeling never did go away, and the reality of it didn't creep in until I realised a few days back I had to go for the NIE convo. I swept the letter informing us of the convo away under a pile of papers when I received it. I thought I could simply forget about it. Guess I can't.

And now, as I see the convo gown hung up in my room, waiting for me to don it come Friday, I told my mum it's OK if no one goes. I'm fine with it. It's no big deal. I've gotten over the worst of how I could have felt. I can't feel any worse. Maybe? Maybe not?

With a deep breath, I pluck up the courage to face the hurts and fears I've held in me all these years. Perhaps, it is time to let go. Perhaps...