As I walked down Grand River Avenue to meet them, passing Student Services and then Berkey on my way to the Union, a pit in my stomach started to grow, weighing me down with each step.

That was when it hit me: In four years, I had never thought to come here.

I’ve been thinking about this goodbye for a long time. 

The last four years have been some of the most meaningful and transformative of my life, filled with late-night study sessions, inside jokes with new friends, lessons in campus parking and so much growth along the way.

But through it all, a shadow lingered, even in the brightest moments.

When I arrived at Michigan State as a bright-eyed freshman in fall 2022, moving into my room at Snyder Hall felt like a new beginning. 

Opportunities waited around every corner, and each day brought a new challenge that invited me to step outside my comfort zone.

Everything felt unfamiliar in the way it’s supposed to be. I quickly found a second home.

Until, just as quickly, everything changed.

On Feb. 13, 2023, Michigan State University experienced something horrific.

The shooting took valuable lives, shattered the trust that held the Spartan community together and struck fear across thousands of students on campus, as well as family members and friends across the country.

I vividly remember that night.

I was sitting in the Snyder Hall lounge working on an essay when a Slack message appeared in The State News chat: “There were shots at Berkey.”

I looked up, confused.

Nothing had changed. There were still two girls laughing at the table beside me, a man checking his mailbox at the front desk and distant commotion from the dorm halls.

Another message, “There’s multiple victims.”

Then, a whirlwind of confusion, panic, messages and phone calls began. Suddenly, people started running and looking for places to hide. I grabbed my bag and rushed back to my room, peeking out the window to see dozens of police cars barricading the roads and flooding the streets and parking lots below.

Helicopters started to appear in the sky.

An eerie silence settled over campus, with every sound provoking more panic and confusion.

When it was finally over, I didn’t sleep. I stayed in my closet, curled in a ball with the lights off and a dresser in front of the door.

The aftermath swiftly became the norm, and as time passed, memories of “before” grew more distant. To outsiders, campus still appeared the same, but to us, it was uncanny.

Doors that were once open were now shut, the warmth of passersby turned cold and strangers were no longer potential friends, but potential threats.

As a culture reporter that semester, that shift was impossible to ignore.

Conversations that once came easily became hesitant and guarded. Man-on-the-street interviews felt forced, and the more I spoke with students and faculty, the more I realized we were all trying to make sense of something that did not make sense.

When I moved back to East Lansing for my sophomore year, I thought it would be a fresh start.

But I was wrong.

Feb. 13 continued to linger in the background, quietly influencing where I went, who I talked to, what felt normal and what never quite did again.

As time goes by and new faces cycle through campus, it would be easy to believe things have returned to the way they were.

After all, our class is the last one to carry the memory of that night. And yet, time hasn’t erased what happened.

Feb. 13 cut into MSU. Even as we heal and the Class of 2026 graduates, it does not leave with us. A scar remains, a reminder of what our community experienced, and though it may fade over time, it’ll never fully disappear.

Remembering matters.

Not only for those of us who were here, but for those who will come next and be a part of a campus shaped by what happened. 

That memory must be passed on with care and responsibility.

I’m glad I went to the Union before graduation. What once carried the weight of the unknown became another step forward to a new future, guided by what we carry with us.

In my final days here, I find myself crossing things off a bucket list I didn’t even realize I had. It’s in the most mundane moments where that growth is the clearest, and the little routines I’ve broken over time now mean more than I ever realized.

As I say farewell and move into the next phase of life, I will never forget what MSU has given me and how that has shaped who I am.

After everything, MSU will always be more than just where I went to college. It was where I learned the strength of community, the power of using my voice and the importance of carrying those lessons forward.

And that is something I will carry with me long after this goodbye.