If you're reading this, don't be afraid to not be fine.
Finishing up my first semester here at Villanova, I've come to a multitude of conclusions that I felt necessary to share. First, I love this school and the people who made my first semester so special. If I mentioned everyone, I wouldn't have much room for anything else, but I hope they all know that I truly couldn't have done this without them. Second, the first semester is hard! It's the first time I've left my lovely hometown, and there has been an adjustment period for me. A large part of my adjustment has been due to, by most measures, a relatively significant life event.
About two and a half years ago, my mom was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I was optimistic, as I always am. I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that I would be someone who lost his mom. Throughout the entire process I never quite believed that the cancer inside of my mom would win – it was my mom! The biggest badass I know. The lady who got a Ph.D. in chemistry from MIT then decided she didn't like chemistry anymore and ended up working for one of the biggest consulting firms in the nation. The lady who then decided to quit said consulting job because she wanted to be the best mother she could be. She achieved that and then some. The lady who fought as hard as she could for two and a half years for the people who she loved and those who loved her. The lady who, on December 22nd of 2022, finally decided to embark on a well-deserved rest.
It's been the hardest thing our family has had to go through and my first time away from home didn’t make it much easier.
My friends back home grew up with my mom, so of course they all knew my situation and were incredibly supportive. Coming to college, I was surrounded by people who didn’t know me, and I spent a lot of my early days here trying to focus on the task at hand, working towards what I wanted out of my college experience. I spent so much of my focus on the task at hand that I neglected to consider the world I was leaving back in Ohio. It was so easy to just push that ugly reality of home out of my mind.
I still talked with my parents constantly, but I avoided the “C word” and tried to brighten the mood with fun college stories. I told people I became close with at school about my mom. I spoke about it so plainly that it became a copied and pasted spiel that I ended up giving dozens of times, taking the power out of my words. It worked, and I enjoyed my first few months of college. I walked around putting a smile on for people that had no idea what I was dealing with. It made them happy, which made me happy – at least for a bit.
On October 2nd, my mom entered hospice. I can’t put into words how hard this hit me. Actually, I can: it hit me so hard that I spent the entire day sobbing on the fourth floor (literally on the floor) of Tolentine listening to “Grant’s Really Sad Playlist.” Then I went back to my dorm and sobbed some more with my roommate. It was an inevitability that I knew would come yet somehow, I never registered it. Or rather, I never allowed myself the time to think about it before that day.
When my parents sent me pictures from home to put up on my dorm wall, I ignored the fact that I teared up just looking at my mom. I brushed it off when my parents could not come to Parents’ Weekend, knowing this meant my mom would never meet the people who were making my college years so special. I ignored the fact that I would not have my mom at my graduation or my wedding or taking care of my kids.
And then, suddenly I could not ignore it anymore. It wasn’t because I was trying to be a macho man who doesn’t cry – I had given that up long ago. I just was doing what I honestly thought was healthy, focusing on the positive. I just happened to heinously miss the mark. It is so easy to bottle things up, no matter how big or small, and that is never the right way to go about things.
This brings me to my third and final conclusion from my first semester of school.
As hard as it might be, you must take time for yourself, whether in your dorm or on the fourth floor of Tolentine. Learn what works for you and make that your routine. Talk to as many or as few people as you need and trust that they will understand either way. Cry if you need to, even if it is an ugly, snotty cry.
Most importantly, be proud. That is where I stand today. I’m proud of myself for how I have handled things, and I know my mom is too.
Take that pride and run with it because it’ll take you through all the Tolentine days.
Grant L., Villanova University ‘26
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