How do you process the loss of an 18 year old?
How do you reconcile the emotions and bombarding thoughts of such a tragic event? How do you put the shattered pieces of the puzzle into some new, unordered structure in an effort to make sense of what is incomprehensible?
The more usual question one tends to ask the universe is “WHY?” Tonight I cannot even get to the place to ask “why,” because I am stuck at the start of The Incomprehensible. How do I even begin to travel from “how?” to “why?”
There is no question that this post is going to be about me. Perhaps it will articulate some of the feelings my students are having. Perhaps it will resonate with them in a way that provides some sort of common thread. Perhaps it will help them to recognize they are not alone in their grief…or even disbelief. Perhaps it will help me come to grips with losing yet another student.
Therapeutic processing…thinking outloud…feeling numb, then empty, then lost, then anger, then whatever emotion decides to rear its ugly head next. I compartmentalize. I’m good at it. I can take something so tragic, put it in a box, put it on a shelf in a closet, close the door, and function in whatever manner is needed in order to take care of others. My time will come later…they need more than I do right now.
At least that is what I tell myself. This is my inner voice: “They need you. They need to see they’re not alone. They need to know someone gives a damn about them. Shove it away, deal with it later, go do what you know you need to do…for the many.” Ok, that’s not my inner voice. That’s some sort of screenplay bullshit I just made up. My inner voice is raw: “WTAF do I say to these kids?!?!”
I didn’t know you yet, not really. We met at your audition in June. You played for me, not the TAs, not the Staff. Me. I wrote 3 short sentences on your record. That’s it. Just 3. I didn’t have to write any more than that. You played well. You were nervous and missed a partial here and there, but before I could correct you, you backed up, fixed it, and played on. I knew your high school teacher—I knew you came from a strong experience and would have no trouble fitting into the UDMB. I wrote 3 sentences and said all of that in a more succinct manner. I know because I pulled up your record just now and read it. I had to make sure the person I was thinking about was you because…I didn’t know you yet, not really. It has only been 8 1/2 weeks since band camp.
I didn’t know you yet, not really. You became one of the many—the monster UDMB of 2023. A band finally back at full membership after Covid, cranking on all cylinders, and fighting an uphill battle against Mother Nature. A picture perfect band camp followed by only 1 or 2 rehearsals per week due to rain, and only 2 performances/games when the sun shined…three of four games total washouts. Never to get consistency in routine yet still cranking. Juggling the minutiae of the day to day and not seeing everyone with any sense of regularity, I didn’t know you yet, not really…I have yet to get to know the freshmen class because I have let all the nonsense interfere with the most important aspects of my job—the people.
I didn’t know you yet, not really. When I hung up the phone after getting the news, the faces of those who departed far too early over the course of my career came roaring back. A violinist my very first year of teaching in NY; a clarinetist my 7th year at UD; a baritone player 5 years later; another baritone player 5 years after that; a horn player 5 years after that, and now, 6 years later, you. There have been many losses along my journey not included in this list for they lived long, fulfilling lives. True, they were cut short, but nothing as short as the breeze you were. I knew them. We laughed, we chatted, we shouted hello across parts of campus. I didn’t really know you, not yet—we didn’t get to sit in my office for a Field Staff interview…somehow I know you would have knocked it out of the park.
When will we learn to cherish the people we meet with more depth, more understanding, more love? When will we learn to TAKE THE TIME to look up from our phones and simply say “hello” instead of “liking” some ridiculous picture and missing an opportunity to make a new friend? When will we learn that it is the people in our lives that matter, and frankly nothing else?
I stand at the precipice of The Incomprehensible looking into the abyss called The Sadness. You touched more lives than you knew young man…I saw that today on the faces of your peers. I can only hope you knew that.
Godspeed Ethan. May your memory be a blessing to us all.
SARV BLOG 