I remember clearly the day I graduated from culinary school. Because my arthritis was diagnosed half way through, I cracked a rib and ended up doing my final exams with pneumonia, there was a good chance I wouldn't pass. But I was just happy that I had completed the very intensive program under all those pressures. I called my graduation day my completion day because I didn't want to get my hopes up and was satisfied with that. We didn't find out our marks until we were handed a brown envelope by our chef instructors in front of friends and family.
I had brought my hubby, Dad and best friend (my sister had car trouble and couldn't make it), and the one thing I had wanted to do all my life was make my father proud. Well, when I opened my envelope I saw "This is to certify that ______ has completed..." I was content. Until a fellow student pointed to the big word at the top and said "Laurie, that IS a diploma you know!"
Well, I started to cry tears of joy and made my way over to the direction of my family. DH turned around and I mouthed the words "I passed" and he told the others. The all turned around with tears of joy in their eyes. When I was finally able to go see them when it was done, my Dad hadn't stopped crying. He grabbed me and hugged me and for the first time in my 47 years said "I am so proud of you". That was worth every minute of it! My only regret was that my mother wasn't there to be part of it because she gave me my love of cooking.