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Column: What it's like to lose a parent in college

April 13, 2016

It sucks. That’s for sure. Losing a parent would never be easy, but during college seems to be the worst time for it to happen.

Dealing with emotions while trying to get the administration to understand is nearly impossible. Individual professors are much more understanding than the University, but I still had to steel myself to talk to every single professor about what is going on in my life, and provide the University with proof of my Dad’s passing.

Harder than dealing with administration was dealing with normalcy, which was abhorrent, because nothing was normal.

My roommate said that her boyfriend is coming over and will be staying until Tuesday, oh also the garbage disposal is broken. Okay? I hadn’t smiled in days. It got hard to get out of bed in the morning. I realized that I was now a month away from my MCAT date. I was supposed to spend the last month studying, but couldn’t. I cancelled my MCAT. I didn’t have another choice. I resigned my position writing for a satirical newspaper, how could I ever be funny again?

I avoided music at all costs, my Dad and I shared an iTunes account, so all his music is my music. Friends still went out; my roommates still stole my food. Everything was normal for them, but for me, my life was crumbling. I could barely get out of bed or shower, but my friends were still inviting me to their 21st birthday parties, I still had to pay my part of the utilities bill, and I had to get to class.

It is hard enough to keep up in college, but I was trying to catch up without falling further behind, which was especially hard because all I wanted to do was sleep. Professors understood for the most part, thank whatever deity that I went to office hours that one time so I was a somewhat familiar face to them.

People would continuously come up to me and say “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Was that supposed to help? “Thanks, me too?”. They asked “How are you?” — a question with no right answer.

At first I would say “I don’t know, it hasn’t really hit me yet,” but that opened up dialogue, which I didn’t want. Then I switched to saying “I’m okay,” but then people either thought that I was lying or that I was crazy. So I settled for “Well, I’ve been better,” which either shocked people into a laugh or shut them up completely, which was better.

Then one day I woke up and it didn’t hurt as badly. My mom sent me a picture of my cat at home and I smiled. I took a shower, went to class, to work, to my volunteer position, the gym, made dinner, and watched a movie before going to bed. I saw a perfect flower, a fluffy cloud, I said yes to going out with my roommates. The storm was over.

The storm may now be over, but there are still occasional showers. I think of all that my Dad and I had in common. We both loved reading, anything to do with Harry Potter, scary movies, skydiving, and roller coasters. I watched a scary movie last week and went to text my dad to watch it. As I grabbed my phone I realized that he will never again answer my texts.

Sarah Baribeau is a junior studying neuroscience and psychology.

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