On Wednesday night I made my way over to my dad’s house in order to help decorate his tree. This is a piece of my past that I really cherish, something to hold on to that reminds me of happier times. I didn’t know that the night would end in a very surreal and profoundly humbling way. 

If you’ve followed me here, you may know that I finished my undergraduate degree, albeit late, in May of 2016. Unfortunately, even though I completed the program I still had a large bill with the University due to pharmacy bills that had accumulated from the on-campus medical center. Because of this I didn’t actually have my diploma or access to official transcripts. But no big deal right? I mean I was done. I’ve been chipping away at it ever since.

Since my family will be in separate places this weekend, my father (and mom via Skype) gave me a present that took me completely off guard. Looking inside, I realized that the remaining balance had been paid off, and my parents had taken the final step in completing this undergraduate journey. The feeling is hard to describe at first. After all, I had resigned myself months ago to the reality that I was finished and that the diploma was simply a bonus. I wasn’t expecting the feeling of finality to come across as much as it did. Was it because of the unexpected twists and turns that I had taken across four schools since 2005? Or the derailing nature of the myositis diagnosis in 2013? Maybe the final month of May 2016 in which a hospital stay and infusion brought me to my knees with a few weeks worth of papers still to write?

Whatever the case, I came home and started to reflect. Eventually I was able to form an analogy that I shared with my dad.

Let’s say you were running forward …playing football maybe. There are a lot of people in front of you. A lot of pain, a lot of suffering, a lot of hits.

You know they’re coming and there’s nothing you can do about it. But the football you’re carrying…your promises to family, yourself, your academics..is too important to drop and fumble.

So what do you do? You have no other choice but to go forward. You fly forward and maybe close your eyes and barrel through.

You start getting hit and it feels like it lasts forever.

Hits keep coming and you just get into the groove of holding the football, pressing your eyes shut and going forward.

Then suddenly you open your eyes and everyone is gone. You’re still hurt, but the threat is gone. And you can take a deep breath. The people around you are cheering your touchdown, but it still seems surreal, and you’re still shaking from the onslaught. 

Opening that box was like opening my eyes. A closing of a chapter that I thought was complete months ago. It’s a humbling reminder that the value of moving forward despite the odds can have an impact yet to be measured and affect you in ways that you can’t see coming. I’m thankful for my parents this Christmas season, and for all of my friends, colleagues and acquaintances that were cheering in the crowd as I made this run toward the goal line.