I don't know where I was or what I was doing when you died, but I'll never forget the details of the moment I found out.
It was a Sunday morning and I was in the edit suite at the CBC basement classroom, working on a story for Tuesday's issue of The Aquinian. I was barely two paragraphs into the story when my managing editor appeared in the doorway and told me the news.
One of the first things I did was type your name into Facebook. I recognized your face - we had been in at least one class together - but the most striking thing about your profile was the number of friends we shared.
I didn't know the details then - I didn't know about the party, the alleged hazing or even where your body had been found - but I knew in that moment things were going to be different on campus going forward.
Over the weeks, details about your death were slowly revealed. Six weeks after the fact, police ruled your death the result of an accidental fall where alcohol was a factor and the volleyball team - your team - was suspended for the rest of the season after the school found evidence of hazing.
The case was closed.
It was a Sunday morning and I was in the edit suite at the CBC basement classroom, working on a story for Tuesday's issue of The Aquinian. I was barely two paragraphs into the story when my managing editor appeared in the doorway and told me the news.
One of the first things I did was type your name into Facebook. I recognized your face - we had been in at least one class together - but the most striking thing about your profile was the number of friends we shared.
I didn't know the details then - I didn't know about the party, the alleged hazing or even where your body had been found - but I knew in that moment things were going to be different on campus going forward.
Over the weeks, details about your death were slowly revealed. Six weeks after the fact, police ruled your death the result of an accidental fall where alcohol was a factor and the volleyball team - your team - was suspended for the rest of the season after the school found evidence of hazing.
The case was closed.
The middle of October, the days leading up to your death, always leave me feeling sad, even though I'm not really sure I have a right to feel that way. I didn't know you the way my friends did when you were alive but there's no single person who has had a greater effect on my life than you have.
The days, weeks, months after Oct. 24, 2010 presented some of the most challenging and heartbreaking situations I've ever found myself involved in. Reconciling my identity as a reporter with my duties as a friend was a difficult thing to do - so much so that I never really got it down. While I certainly agreed it was a story and one that needed to be told, if for no other reason than out of respect for your memory, seeing so many of my friends in pain and mourning hurt in ways I wasn't expecting or prepared for.
Although I felt (and continue to feel) our coverage at the Aquinian was done with care and sensitivity, it was done with such a heavy heart and conscience and I didn't know how to shake it. I drank a lot that year, first with friends, then by myself as I slowly withdrew from my social circle. I started going out by myself and looking for anything to make me feel something other than disgusted with myself for being such a sad mess when there were others who had far more reason to be hurting.
The cloud did lift with time. The investigation into your death concluded. I made some new friends, ones who weren't at all connected to the St. Thomas or the paper or even journalism. I was still drinking a lot and I could tell my classmates were still struggling to cope, but I could also see hope on the horizon.
It would take time, but I knew eventually hurt would give way to healing and we'd be able to celebrate your life instead of mourning your death.
It would take time, but I knew eventually hurt would give way to healing and we'd be able to celebrate your life instead of mourning your death.
I interviewed your mom a week before graduation, only a few days into my internship at my first daily newspaper job. My hands were sweaty as I held the phone receiver to my ear and when I got the answering machine, I left what I'm sure was a long, rambling message before hanging up and sighing with relief. The last thing I expected was for her to call me back but she did and we talked for about 20 minutes.
It wasn't until the reception at James Dunn Hall that I had the privilege of meeting your mom in person. She was with some of your friends when I approached her and introduced myself. She thanked me for the story I wrote about you receiving your honourary degree before passing me a small pink box. I knew what it was - she told me about the ornaments she was having made for your friends during our interview - but as I pulled out the walnut, dressed like a STU grad with your name and our grad year on the back, it took everything I had not to cry.
I still keep the ornament pinned to the wall that runs along the side of my desk at the office and it reminds me to be compassionate and sensitive to the thoughts, feelings and hurts of others as I do my job.
Those are things four years of university couldn't teach and I look forward to thanking you for those hard learned lessons one day.
Those are things four years of university couldn't teach and I look forward to thanking you for those hard learned lessons one day.
and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.
Revelation 21: 4
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