Thursday, March 17, 2005

I wanted to post in this space an extremely well-written piece by Anne Chengery, published in the March 17, 2005 edition of The Duquesne Duke.

In memory of Meredith
By Anne Chengery
The Duquesne Duke

Chords of anxiety and curiosity are struck in each of us when someone who we know dies. When someone dies who we do not know, a small ripple runs through our spirit, mostly in empathy for those who were closest to that person.

My soul is rippling tonight.

After filing down the stairs from the choir loft at the conclusion of the memorial mass celebrated in honor of Meredith Kenneff, my friends and I waited outside of the entrance to the chapel while an unending stream of students followed behind us. Waiting in an eerie silence, I watched as students met with tears and sobs, comforting each other with hugs and half-hearted smiles. I did not know Meredith, but I was affected deeply while standing there, imagining what it would be like if this had happened to someone close to me.

As two of Meredith’s sorority sisters consoled each other, one voice muffled into her sister’s shoulder, “This sucks. It really sucks.” Minutes later, with a line of mascara trailing from her lashes, she turned around and whispered “wow” at the sight of a crowd of students stretching almost to the entrance of Canevin Hall. I don’t know if anyone knew what we were waiting for, but we didn’t move. I was watching for a star to shoot from the sky or a dove to fly overhead, but neither miracle had to happen.

Listening to Meredith’s roommate talk about why she was so special struck me, and I began thinking of what the past few days must have been like for her. Suppose Meredith’s bed was unmade or clothes that she wore last week were still on the floor. I wonder if they’re still there, serving as a reminder of the life once within them. I don’t suspect that Meredith’s roommate has slept in her own bed since Saturday night. Or maybe she has.

At a time in our lives when highs come in the form of Friday nights and semester breaks and lows in the form of exams that wait for us when we get back from those breaks; the death of a peer sends a wave of finality and uncertainty through us. It is an ambiguous combination, finality and uncertainty, but it leaves us holding even more tightly to those that we love and most regrettably take for granted. Times like this remind us that it’s not enough to live only for ourselves, and that true happiness is found in our relationships with others.

As the last students trickled from the chapel, we continued waiting, unable to feel the brisk March wind that swept across the bluff. We were waiting for some direction or permission to leave, unwilling to be the first to say good night. Father Bill finally came outside and gave us reason to disperse, charging us to “walk as one; go as one; live as one.”

Heading back to the Union I was filled with the spirit of Duquesne as I witnessed a parade of students holding each other, grieving over the loss of one of our own.

I never saw Academic Walk look so bright.

• posted by Dave at 5:58 AM
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