My name is Lemuel, I’m the eldest of three children. I’m the son of a farmer. I grew up in poverty, on the farm, in sweat and mud. Even as a child, I knew how hard life was and how simple our family was. My father, Delfin, didn’t finish school. All he could do was plow the soil, plant rice, and rely on the rain. But even so, I consider him the bravest and strongest person.
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When I was young, I was often teased. They said I was a “farmer’s son,” always sweating and smelling of the sun when I went to school. I wasn’t like my classmates who had clean shoes and new clothes. Sometimes I was even made fun of for carrying an old bag my mother had just sewn. But I endured it all. The only thing I had in my hand were the words my father repeated over and over again.
“My son, we are poor, but that doesn’t mean you have to stay here. Study. Be patient. One day, I won’t see you struggling like your mother and me.”
So I persevered. While others slept, I studied by the light of a gas lamp. While my classmates ate delicious baguettes, I patiently ate sweet potatoes or cooked bananas. And while others complained about the difficulty of the task, I counted the hours I had to help out in the field before I could sit down and study.
Many years passed. The day I graduated from university arrived, a day I dreamed of not for myself, but for my father and mother. I wanted them to see that all their sacrifices had not been in vain.
But that day, I was ashamed to admit I was nervous. With so many relatives in robes and gowns, with expensive cars and shoes, my father came barefoot. Not because he wanted to, but because it was what he was used to. He was used to the earth, he was used to the mud. In fact, he didn’t even have proper shoes to wear. All he had with him was his slim body, a faded polo shirt, and a proud smile.
I saw the people. Some were teaching, others whispering, others shaking their heads, and others mocking him. I was ashamed. I felt pain stab my heart. “Why did he come like this?” one of my classmates whispered.
I wanted to hide. I wanted to get angry. But I held it back.
And the moment came, the most important part. One by one, the names of the students who would receive their diplomas were called. The surroundings were silent. Until I heard my name.
“Lemuel Santos, summa cum laude.”
The whole room applauded. I stood up, shaking, then looked at my father. There, I saw his eyes filled with tears. The people who had laughed earlier looked at him, and now they were applauding too. Suddenly, the jokes stopped. The barefoot farmer they were looking at and insulting was the father of a summa cum laude.
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Amidst the applause, I thought, “This isn’t just my victory. It’s my father’s victory. The victory of all the sweat and effort he poured out just so I could study.”
When I took the stage, I couldn’t hold back my tears. And when I received my diploma, I immediately looked down and looked for my father. In the crowd, he was always the most important of all.
After the ceremony, I walked up to him. I hugged him tightly and whispered,
“Dad, I wouldn’t have had this without you. Thank you.”
He just smiled, wiping the tears from my cheeks, and his response was,
“My son, it’s enough for me to see you here. The diploma you’re holding is the shoe I never had. It’s the success that is greater than anything I own.”
It’s not clothes, shoes, or wealth that measure a person’s true worth. Sometimes, what others laugh at is the reason for the greatest inspiration and success. The sacrifices our parents make, however simple, can be the foundation of our dreams. And above all, the love of a father, even barefoot, is greater than all praise and honor in the world.
