By Emma-Cate Rapose
My last piece as opinions editor was supposed to be a thank you to everyone and everything that has helped shape me into the person I’ve become because of the last four years at Stonehill. Maybe that piece will come later, but I’m not ready to say goodbye just yet.
Mere hours after the news broke that the senior class was not going to finish off their final semester on campus, I received a text from my “Stonehill mom,” Lauren O’Halloran ‘13, that I’ve been thinking about ever since: “If I were trying to be more positive about the situation I would say things like, ‘think about how much fun you had for the first 90% of your college career, and I’m sure that’s more fun than people at other schools ever have. And Stonehill will always be there and you can always always go back. But I do not know that we are trying to be positive yet. Still grieving.’”
I’m grieving the loss of my final Relay for Life event, which I should be setting up in the Spoco as I type this. I’m grieving the loss of my final semester with Girls from the Hill, where I should be singing my senior song (which would’ve been “You’ve Got a Friend” by Carole King) to send me off into the real world. I’m grieving the loss of three more layout nights in The Summit office and all the antics that come with them. I’m grieving the loss of Thursday nights at Brother Mike’s and Saturday nights in 422. I’m grieving the loss of so many more Student Alumni Association meetings. I’m grieving the loss of stopping by Devon Sprague’s office to have a life chat on my way to my shifts in the CWAA. I’m grieving the loss of every moment I shared with my friends on the first floor of the library daily. I’m grieving the loss of eating every meal at the same high top table in the commons with my three best friends. I’m grieving the loss of saying “goodnight moon” to my roommate of four years every night.
I’m definitely not ready to be positive yet. I’m struggling to cope with the complete loss of my routine, which I loved so dearly. I don’t think it’s worth it to try and reach to find the silver lining every day. However, some moments have made me realize that, despite it all, there is still some light and hope. I will leave you with these two moments:
On Sunday, when I went back to campus to grab my textbooks and some clothes, I decided to stop by the Beanery, my favorite coffee shop on the planet, to grab one last breakfast sandwich and coffee before I headed back to Plymouth. When I pulled into the parking lot, I knew something was up when I saw Blake, one of the employees, in the lot waving at me with a clipboard in his hand. The Beanery was doing a “carhopping” service, taking orders through car windows and delivering food and drink right to you in the parking lot. Not only was this a genius idea to keep business going, but it also seemed safest for public health. Although it felt like the world was falling apart around me, every employee had a positive attitude. I was so grateful to see some people smiling through everything. I genuinely could not stop crying as they handed me my food.
Every Monday on campus, we kicked off our 9:10 p.m. Student Alumni Association meetings with what we call “SAA Today.” During this time, members of the group were welcome to share something positive that had happened in their lives since the last time we had met. Despite not having these meetings anymore, SAA Today has continued virtually. I’ve been able to hear uplifting stories of spring break H.O.P.E. Trips, and I’ve seen so many pictures of pets, who are keeping everyone company during this social distancing period. Every time I get a notification for another email being added to this thread, there is an instant smile on my face.
I am grateful for the Stonehill faculty and staff, who have had to completely modify their syllabi and schedules in an incredibly short period of time, but have also taken the opportunity to reach out to make sure that I’m okay. This is just as hard on them as it is on us. I’m also grateful for the nightly group FaceTimes that have led me to feel closer to my friends than I ever have. We’re in this together. Keep grieving. It’s okay not to be positive yet, but try to remember there is always some light and hope, because that’s what Skyhawks do.
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