I didn’t originally write this for Memorial Day, but it’s rather appropriate for a day in which we remember those who fought and lost their lives for our country. It’s also appropriate because I think of my Grandpa (a two time veteran) the same way I think of my Nana.
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My Nana and I 30 years ago.
This year, I ran out of things to say to those who had lost a loved one.
Sadly, in my mere eight years working in higher education, I have had to counsel and react to too many student tragedies. And this semester, I finally ran out of words of consolation. The loss of those words came when my own internal consolation no longer worked. Before, I just knew these losses and life detours were a part of humanity. But this year, my internal chalking-it-up-to-the human condition no longer worked within me.
That is, until I was coming home from working a candlelight vigil that remembered the lives of three deceased students the night before Mother’s Day. It struck me as I was walking to the train in Kenmore Square.
You can’t explain it. You don’t have to be okay with it. But the best thing you can do is live life for the person you have lost.
In a way, I have been doing this for over a decade. I live life for my Nana. It’s the little things – I always stop and watch any time I see Kelly Ripa on TV, because my Nana always told me she was “going to be a big deal” when I would watch All My Children (with a teenage Ripa) with her. I kept taking Latin because my Nana lamented it being phased out of the schools. I always turn up my nose at Our Lady of Mercy High School because Nana attended school there, but always recalled the nuns were too mean.
And whenever I get depressed, discouraged and convinced that I should just quit everything I do and go work at Dunkin’ Donuts or Target, I remember that Nana would be horribly disappointed in me. She wanted me to succeed. She held me to the highest standards anyone has ever held me to, and continues to do so thirteen years after her passing. Living up to them would be what she would have wanted.
I live life for her, which is the best tribute I think I could do for her.
So to my colleagues, students and anyone else out there trying to make sense of a loss: live your life for them. Live your life like they would have wanted you to, or how they would have if they were still able to. Because in living your life, you’ll do great service to the memories and foundations they gave to you while they were alive.