Entry 8: So Much Unsaid

Summary: Angela laments her inability to express to Tony how much she feels about his decision to go to college.

Dear Tony,

One day, I may garner the courage to show you this letter. Right now, the only place I can express how much I feel for you is within the secure pages of this journal, which you so ironically gave to me. Today, you made a decision that very few people would have had the courage to make. You cast aside social stigma, stereotypes, and your own self-deprecation and decided to go to college. It has been eighteen years since you've sat in a classroom, and you've never been conditioned or prepared for higher education, yet you studied, applied, prepared, and tested to enter an environment that will expose you to so more than I can even begin to tell you.

For me to have been a part of your inspiration is both touching and humbling. I've always known you have so much more to offer than what you allow yourself to believe, and whatever sense of pride I feel is only a result of knowing you are finally seeing in yourself qualities I've long known were there – qualities I've come to love about you.

I promise to stand by you over the next four, five, or even ten years – however long it takes – until you hold that diploma, that dream, in your hand. I will be there as you walk across that stage a college graduate, having overcome not only your own fears, but a society that said you were too old and a childhood that said there was no need. It won't always be easy or fun, but just as you never left my side as we opened The Bower Agency, I will never leave yours as you discover a part of Tony Micelli I've longed for you to find.

All my love,

Angela

Oh, how I wish I had the courage to tell Tony all of this. When we left that office today, Tony's recalculated grade in hand, everything I said seemed so inadequate, especially when compared to what I was feeling. I only hope that what I am able to offer is enough.

But is it condescending that I feel proud of him? Is it insulting to him that I'm glad I played some small part in inspiring him to go to school? Is it selfish that I am grateful it is me who gets to be with him along this journey?

We enjoyed a celebratory lunch together, and Tony never once stopped talking about what he wants out of college and all the life experiences that had convinced him he just wasn't meant to be a "college boy." His eyes lit up as he looked at the course schedule, and he was barely able to narrow his classes down to five, none of which are in the same department because everything appeals to him, from anthropology to world history to public speaking. It's no surprise that many of the classes he settled on were in the humanities and social sciences, subjects dealing with people. While Tony may have no idea what to major in quite yet, my bets are on sociology, communications, education, social work or some other such field where he can work with and help people.

I remember being so disheartened last week when he nearly chickened out by allowing his fears to get the better of him. Maybe it was wrong of me to involve Sam and to play on his vulnerabilities, but this is one case in which I truly believe the ends justify the means. He took the test, and even if it took some underhanded tactics on my part, I think it was worth it, and if his elation at passing the test is any indication, I'd say he agrees. I wanted this for him, but more importantly, I wanted him to want it just as much for himself. Time and time again, Tony has taken on academic pursuits, but nearly all of them have been for the benefit of the kids. Then, just this past fall, he brought himself national exposure and a job offer I still can't quite believe he passed up, all as a result of his interest in and pursuit of better education. I remember thinking then how much I wanted him to see in himself the same passion, the same potential, the same brilliance that I see. And it seems that finally, he is starting to believe there is more to him than just being an Italian jock turned housekeeper. Rather than let his background hold him back, he is going to have so many opportunities to let it influence his education and help him flourish in this new environment, just as it did when he took a chance by moving into a stranger's home in Connecticut.

One day, maybe I'll be unable to hold back anymore, no longer content to offer unconditional but quiet support, enthusiastic but restrained encouragement. Because for all the growing Tony will be doing academically, I need to focus on growing emotionally. Maybe on that long-off day when he gets that diploma, I'll be able to jump in his arms, face awash in tears of pride and love, and tell him that I always believed in him, even when he didn't believe in himself. Maybe. Hopefully.