Shane did not appear in my class the day before he died. When news reached us that he was in the hospital, class ended as many left, hoping to visit him.
Yet, later, when I returned to my office, Shane was sitting in a hallway chair. "Why are you here?" I asked him.
"I wanted to find out what I missed in class," he said.
"You've missed class before but never came to find out what you missed," I chided him.
He spent 45 minutes in my office, just talking with me. Later, I learned, he went to The BV and spent a few minutes quietly talking with every member of the staff. Afterward, he took his roommates and girlfriend out to dinner.
The next morning, he was gone. I still cannot think of him without tearing up. Shane was a remarkable human being, and we are all the lesser for his absence.
There's a symmetry between a dying parent who waits for their children to be with them before letting go, and the attempt of closure and tying loose ends of important relationships.
(I've been told that I was on campus with Shane in 1998-99 during my senior year. By then I was a fill-in copy editor who read stories from my room and periodic shuttle driver to/from the printer in Jamestown.)
Shane did not appear in my class the day before he died. When news reached us that he was in the hospital, class ended as many left, hoping to visit him.
Yet, later, when I returned to my office, Shane was sitting in a hallway chair. "Why are you here?" I asked him.
"I wanted to find out what I missed in class," he said.
"You've missed class before but never came to find out what you missed," I chided him.
He spent 45 minutes in my office, just talking with me. Later, I learned, he went to The BV and spent a few minutes quietly talking with every member of the staff. Afterward, he took his roommates and girlfriend out to dinner.
The next morning, he was gone. I still cannot think of him without tearing up. Shane was a remarkable human being, and we are all the lesser for his absence.
There's a symmetry between a dying parent who waits for their children to be with them before letting go, and the attempt of closure and tying loose ends of important relationships.
(I've been told that I was on campus with Shane in 1998-99 during my senior year. By then I was a fill-in copy editor who read stories from my room and periodic shuttle driver to/from the printer in Jamestown.)