Coming to terms with it all. . . . Part 2 (Graduation)

Today, I took part in something that was both fun and bittersweet. I volunteered to help with a graduation ceremony at the university where I’ve been working for just over seven months. It’s been a great place to work, calm, supportive, and free of the toxicity I’ve encountered in the past. There are moments when I feel like I don’t know as much as I should, but I remind myself that this is my first time working in higher education. It’s a new industry for me, and it’ll take time to get the hang of everything. My colleagues often reassure me: even after years, you’ll never know it all.

But back to today.

I started my morning early, feeling a little tired. Normally, if I’m up this early, it’s for the gym, which energizes me for the day. This time, there was no workout, just a quick briefing on my role as a greeter. My job was to direct students and their families to different parts of the ceremony at the Barbican: registration, gown collection, photography, and finally the main hall where everything was set to take place. nearly 300 students and their guests gathered to celebrate.

As I moved through the day, watching students in their ceremonial gowns surrounded by their loved ones, I found myself smiling, genuinely enjoying the experience. There’s something so special about the air at a graduation, pride, excitement, relief, and love all mingling together. But as much as I enjoyed it, a wave of sadness crept in as I thought about Aleks.

This year, Aleks will graduate from university. It’s a moment she’s worked so hard for, a dream she carried for years. And while I’m so proud of her, it hurts deeply to know I won’t be there to see it happen.

Thinking about this, the journey we started together and the path she’s continued on, makes today even more bittersweet.

Let me tell you about Aleks. She didn’t graduate the first time she went to university. There were reasons for that, serious ones, but that’s not my story to tell. When she moved to London, she still dreamed of earning her degree, but the people in her life at that time discouraged her.

When we met, she didn’t open up about it right away. Over time, though, she shared her story with me, the sadness she felt about not graduating, the frustration of being held back by people who didn’t believe in her. I could see it in her eyes, in the way her shoulders would slump slightly whenever she talked about it. It broke my heart.

Aleks is one of the brightest, funniest, and most creative people I’ve ever met. Seeing her doubt herself because others didn’t support her dreams angered me in a way I couldn’t express. I couldn’t stand the thought of her wasting another year working jobs that didn’t reflect her potential.

So I encouraged her. I supported her. Maybe I pushed her a little, she’s told me that in moments of stress or frustration, but I don’t regret it. Watching Aleks throw herself into university, seeing her grow and thrive, made me feel warm inside. It was something she wanted to do for so long, and she was finally doing it.

Part of Aleks’ course involved writing, and I loved reading her stories. Within the space of a year, she came so far, and it was so rewarding to see her growth. It felt like I was part of that journey, not the star of the show, of course, but an observer, someone who gave support when she needed it and a little encouragement when things were tough. I’m sad that I won’t read any more of her stories, but I’m happy knowing she’s doing what she loves.

When she got into university, she thanked me over and over, like she couldn’t believe it was real. But I didn’t do it for the thanks. I did it because I loved her.

Watching Aleks grow throughout her studies has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. I’ve seen her tackle challenges, face her fears, and push through self-doubt. When she thought she wasn’t good enough, I reminded her that she was. When she felt overwhelmed, I cheered her on. I believed in her even when she struggled to believe in herself.

That’s why it’s so hard to know I won’t be there for her graduation. This moment, this milestone, it’s something we started together. I was there in the beginning, encouraging her to take this step. I was there through the late nights, the tears, the pressure, and the triumphs. But I won’t be there at the end.

A small part of me feels angry about that. Angry that I won’t get to see her walk across the stage, wearing her gown and holding her degree. Angry that I’ve been denied the chance to share in a moment I helped her reach.

But most of all, I feel proud.

Proud of everything Aleks has achieved. Proud that she never gave up on herself, even when others let her down. And proud that I was able to be part of her journey, even if I can’t be there to see how it ends.

As I watched the graduates today, I couldn’t help but imagine Aleks among them, her face lit up with joy and pride. And even though I’ll be missing from the crowd, my heart will be cheering for her louder than anyone else’s.

Aleks, if you ever read this, know that I am so proud of you. You’ve accomplished something incredible, and I hope you carry that pride with you for the rest of your life.