You Are Loved

Last Friday was one of the hardest days I've experienced in my 4 1/2 years as a Shepherd Student. 

It seems that this year was determined to be riddled with hardships, and it certainly has been.... for many people.  This blog is not going to be me whining and complaining about how difficult life has been, but rather it will be about the strength I've drawn from these unfortunate events. 

Late last Thursday night Shepherd lost a very talented, bright, and kind young man.  The news reached most of the students in the English Department on Friday (the student was an English minor, set to graduate with me in December, and had been a student in a great number of my literature classes- including one this semester) and the atmosphere around Knutti Hall, our building, was one of reverent silence.  When I arrived on campus shortly after seeing the student-wide email announcing that counseling services would be available for those affected by this loss, the change in the normally casually-friendly atmosphere was immediately evident.  I met a friend at the street corner, and the first words out of his mouth were, "Did you check your email?"  I nodded yes and immediately my vision blurred with tears. 

That was my day-- fighting tears everywhere I went-- until my American Literature class, the one I shared with that young man.  We slowly filed into the room, hardly anyone speaking and then only in whispers, no laughter (of which he almost always took part in before class started).  We couldn't look at each other.  When our professor came into the room, what little noise there was died, save the people that kept sniffling, just trying to breathe. 

What our professor said to us during that nearly unbearable class on that most awful day made me realize that I know I made the right choice in attending a small school like Shepherd University.  She told us about the counseling services, qualified her involvement by saying that she was not a counselor (which I found extremely professional and admirable), and then proceeded to tell us how much she and the other professors cared about each and every one of us.  "You are loved," she said.  She had barely made it three sentences in before the majority of us could no longer fight the tears.  We sat in silence, listening to her talk about how our friend was a talented man, a compassionate man.  "This sucks."  This was the thing she said to us that really stuck in my mind.  It's unbelievably simple, but it certainly wasn't an understatement.  The simplicity of this sentence just symbolized the fact that we could not alter what had happened, that we were helpless against this tragedy.  "Just keep doing what you're doing:  ask for help, lean on each other, and know that you are loved."  There was no fluff that came from her, and as she  allowed us to say what we needed to (many in our class knew him quite well), I felt a great rush of admiration and thankfulness for her actions.  A few students talked about his influence and his personality, one even told the perfect anecdote about our friend trying toaster strudels for the first time. 

In short, we leaned upon one another and eventually made it to the point where we had temporarily stopped the tears (the toaster strudel story got many laughs because it described our friend's delightful character so perfectly).  The strength we drew from one another helped me greatly, though it didn't keep me from going back to the dorm after class and sleeping for multiple hours.  It is unfortunate that it takes a tragedy to bring people together, but there is something incredible about the way we rally for one another in times of hardship.  This semester has consisted of many heartbreaks:  the forever loss of not one, but two friends; the train wreck back home where a man died; more recently at home a house fire that killed four children and their father; a different fire that altered a relative's life permanently (even if his wife makes it through her injuries).  After learning of the loss at Shepherd, I was ready to scream into the sky, "WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?!?!?!?! Enough is enough," as I walked back across campus to my dorm after that emotionally draining class.  When I entered the common room, my roommate had the news channel on, covering the BREAKING NEWS story of the shooting in the international airport.  I'm pretty sure at that point I did shout something to the effect of enough is enough before I crawled into my bed. 

Losing my resolve again even after the time in our literature class, I made it to the woods Sunday with another friend.  We spent the morning hiking, jumping from rock to rock, and criss-crossing the creek by way of fallen logs.  Something about being in nature, where I feel most like a "species" rather than a special type of non-animal, humbles me and gives me comfort. Thoreau, in Walden, said it well when he spoke of the ponds:  "Talk of heaven! ye disgrace earth."  I ignored any religious thoughts as I drank in the chilly air, took copious amounts of photos, and allowed my eyes to rove continuously over the trees, the leaves, the moss covered rocks, the shallow creek.  I felt myself being purified from the tragedies of the last three months.  This time, the strength I feel, the drive to pick up life and carry on with what I want to accomplish, is sticking.  And when I stop to think about my friend, thinking of his laughter in class and how he will never be able to laugh like that again, I hear my professor's caring tone.  "You are loved." 

You are loved.  Despite how things feel, how desperate we may get or how stressed out we may become, we are still loved, and we have people to lean on through the hard times.  As I said the day we found out about our friend, "We are strong, and we will make it through this."