Didn’t we all have dream jobs as kids? I always wanted to be an architect like my dad—and as an adult, that dream became my reality.
Growing up, my dad taught me to draw and encouraged me through university. A few months before I graduated, he passed away—leaving me heartbroken, but determined to succeed for him.
I moved back to my hometown, rented a place near my dream company—where my dad once worked—and prepared for an interview I felt certain I’d nail. I even placed a photo of him on my shelf.
The morning of the interview, stress kept me unpacking until I passed out on the floor. I had just enough time to get ready and drive to the building—where as a child I’d run through its halls to visit Dad.
In the waiting room, surrounded by nervous candidates, I repeated Dad’s words in my head: “Believe in my belief in you.”
Then I heard my name—and a familiar voice filling out paperwork in the interview room. It was my mother, Linda—the woman I hadn’t seen since Dad’s death.
I confronted her loudly, accusing her of destroying our family and even causing Dad’s heart attack. She calmly tried to explain that she was in HR and had been planning to offer me the job.
Furious, I walked away. Later at home I worried I’d have to leave—until there was a knock. It was her again, with the job offer and a plea to talk.
Angry and overwhelmed, I confronted her about Dad, her affair, and their divorce—but she revealed it happened months before his death, to protect me. She showed me divorce papers dated four months prior.
Tears fell. She sat with me on the floor, apologizing. We spoke honestly for the first time. She reminded me parents protect their children, no matter how old they are.
I realized Dad had always encouraged architecture, but I’d loved drawing too. When she asked if I wanted the signed offer, I realized this was still my dream—and I accepted.