Thank you, grief

Hey, Dad, did you feel emotional the last time you visited Notre Dame?

I did, and I wanted to tell you. I thought you would be here to celebrate graduation. All the sidewalks I’ve walked for four years, the Grotto, my dorm room, The Observer’s newsroom, LaFun. The whole thing.

I want to tell you: I love you. Thank you. 

I wish we could visit Fr. George Rozum, your rector, again. Oh, how 45 years can fly by. I wish we could break into Alumni again, for you to see your old rooms, for you to smile. I wish we could walk God Quad again, our eyes scanning the glimmering dome. I wish we could watch another Blue-Gold Game again, eating salty popcorn in the stands and watching rain drops darken your “wheat” blond hair. I wish we could listen to the Beatles on the toll road again, when it was all said and done.

Remember that time we met Rudy in LaFun?

Death. Grief. Confusion. Pain. Sorrow. Nostalgia. It hits in crashes and waves, wrangling the chains of your heart and mind. Even the most joyous place can be a haunting, crushing reminder of loss. Since Jan. 29, that’s been the case for me.

Nobody wants their senior spring to be their worst semester. Mine was. Along with my dad’s passing, I spent more hours sobbing at the Grotto than thinking about chemistry. I walked campus like a zombie at 3 a.m., paralyzed by loss, obsessive thoughts and the fleeing moment of four years breezing away. I scored 41% on a biochemistry exam. I stood in garages, backyards and corners of parties — unable to breathe — feeling like my entire life has fallen apart.

People abandon you at your lowest. Others morph around the pit in your heart. 

Notre Dame, and college, have been extreme privileges. I’ve had many moments of joy, smiles and laughs that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. But there are moments of confusion, weakness and searing pain that I think are breezed over, too often disregarded as important parts of the college experience. Those are more significant.

Thinking back to Welcome Weekend in 2022, the image of Notre Dame promised security and smiles. Something near perfect bliss. A few people said the experience would be the “best” four years of my life. 

Did these four years match that expectation?

No.

Instead of the best four years of life, it’s been full. Full of emotion, experience and becoming. The years are not always joyful, but they’re full. 

I can’t thank vulnerability enough. Loneliness. Failure. Disappointment. Pain. Grief. What would the highs look like without lows?

Of course, I formed friendships, succeeded in classes, watched home games and enjoyed many fond memories. I will always cherish these moments.

What a privilege it is — to experience. 

Thank you, Mom and Dad. 

Thank you, Marcia, Xavier, Quinten, Alma, Major, Rachel and Gavin. 

Thank you, friends.

Thank you, grief.