#forTaylor2015

On Tuesday night, I watched the How I Met Your Mother episodes concerning the death of Marshall’s father.

I’ve really never watched HIMYM, but for whatever reason I had this urge to subject myself to the heart wrenching scenes that are Alyson Hannigan crying because she’s so darn good at acting.

Anyways.

The funeral episode revolves around last words. Marshall is trying to remember what his father’s last words to him were, but everything he remembers are these unsentimental conversations, like “watch crocodile Dundee 3” or racial stereotypes about Koreans or a pocket-dial voicemail. He gets incredibly upset when he realizes that his mother and brothers all had these beautiful last moments with Marvin. After shouting to the clouds while the pocket-dial message from his father plays in the background, his father’s voice suddenly comes through in the inbox and—after apologizing for the butt dial—says that he loves him.

The whole point of this episode is exploring how important last words are to us. Even if we sit here and say they’re not, deep down the last words are incredibly powerful and lasting.

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Taylor Brown, a beloved member of the Susquehanna University community, departed from this earth very unexpectedly on Wednesday. Those of us who knew her are floating at all levels of devastated. Those who didn’t know her are acutely aware of her amazing impact on campus and how deeply we will miss her presence.

In the wake of this tragedy, all of us are desperately searching for something of hers to hold on to. I’m clinging to that ZTA graduation photo album on Facebook. Those are some of the final photos of her time here on earth; she looks absolutely beautiful in every single one. Even in the goofy photos, she is so perfectly Taylor. I’m clinging to memories of her in Charlie’s, where we hung out constantly, both on and off shifts. I’m clinging to Samoas. I’m clinging to bears. I’m clinging to the memory of her laugh, her voice, her excited little noise, and every memory I have of her saying “Sarah Holland!” with a little squeak, a million-watt smile, and a hug at the ready.

I don’t remember what my last words to Taylor were. Honestly, it was probably something about how amazing she was, and how proud I was of her, because the last time I saw her was right before her graduation. Although, I guess technically my last words to her were an unintelligible scream as her name was called and she sauntered across the graduation stage.

I don’t know if any of us remember our final words to her. But looking through the hundreds of status dedicated to the irreplaceable Taylor Brown, it’s very clear that we all remember very detailed, specific moments with her. And every single moment is so beautifully unique.

Losing Taylor is so hard because she was one of those rare people who intentionally went out of her way to ensure that everyone she met and had least one cherished memory with her. She cared about people, she understood people, and she made sure that if she was going to get to know you, than she was going to make a lasting impact on your life in either a large or small way.

She was genuine, 1007% unapologetically Taylor Holloway-Brown, and she never tried to be anything else. Yet another reason why her individualized memories mean so much: because we all know that they came from an honest and pure place, from the depths of Taylor’s very soul.

She was present. As MaryKate Wust put it, Taylor was a “steady rock” in our lives. She was ready with hugs, listening ears, advice, and words of comfort when times were hard. She was ready to drop honest truths when you needed to hear it, even when you didn’t want to hear it. It was easy to depend on her, for her loyalty was fierce and her compassion was ever flowing. Her emotional discipline was so impressive for someone her age, making her a secure and calm force in even the darkest of times. Any conversation you had with her, she was immersed completely; listening closely, ready with questions and answers and empathy and laughs. Taylor was ready to walk with you, even carry you, whenever you needed it.

Those memories, even if they weren’t our last of her, fill our souls and spirits with joy, love, and, for now at least, unparalleled grief. My heat is so heavy not only for all of us who knew her, but for the many, MANY people of this world who will never have the honor of knowing her. Because she was perfection, and she was unique, and she was powerful, and she was one of a kind.

Taylor always loudly proclaimed her love for people. She wasn’t afraid to tell you how much you meant to her. She wasn’t ashamed to love people completely and openly, with all of her heart. There were so many people she cared deeply for, and she let every single one of them know it. I don’t need her last words to know that I meant something to her; all I need to do is look back on our Facebook exchanges, or our pictures together, or remember the way she smiled when she saw me. I think the same goes for a lot of other people, too.

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Grieving is never easy. Nothing in this world could ever make grieving easy, because intense grief grows out of intense love. But at least this time it isn’t lonely. We have all been impacted by her. We are all in shock, despair, disbelief, denial, anguish, and everything else over the loss of such an amazing, beautiful, strong woman. But we are all in this together.

The network of support from fellow students, greek life, staff, and faculty of SU is stronger than I think I’ve ever seen it. We are all here for each other, to cry together, to scream together, to listen, to share stories, to distract ourselves, to do whatever we need in order to healthily work through our sorrow. The sparkling connections she forged and maintained are what’s going to keep all of us afloat. Even in death, she’s carrying us.

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I don’t know if I’ll ever be as genuine, kind, outgoing, witty, vivacious, intelligent, sassy, wise, and confident as Taylor was (and probably still is in the afterlife). But for her, I’ll try anything.

#forTaylor2015

Why I Was Never a Professional Diver (Of Sorts)

I am not a risk taker.

Like, let’s establish that right off the bat. If you’re looking for someone to just dive head first into a spontaneous adventure, I am not the person to call under any circumstance. Unless you’re inviting me with all the details already figured out and an eta on arrival and return AND you know for sure I have nothing else to do….don’t contact me. The bigger the event or risk becomes, the less likely I am to be spontaneous. And if I AM facing a big decision, I like to be obnoxiously well-informed and think through all the pros and cons or every single option. Because making bad decisions is not a thing I’m looking to do.

Tl;dr version:  I do not jump into swimming pools; I wade in a little at a time.

But I’m about to do something completely out of character. I’m about to make one of the biggest jumps I’ve ever made.

I’m moving to Milwaukee.

WHOA, am I right? The story is that many moons ago back in January, I applied to Marquette University graduate school. They have this cool fellowship for graduates of service corps programs—the Trinity Fellows program—where you get to go to grad school for free while working part time at the non-profit and living on a stipend. Pretty sweet deal, right? Well I didn’t get it. Actually, I didn’t even get into the school: solidly waitlisted.

Disappointing, yes. But by the time I heard back, the thought of picking up my entire life and moving to the Midwest was TERRIFYING. I didn’t want to do it. I COULDN’T do it. I was more disappointed by the idea of not being accepted than the reality; I have a pretty good track record of getting most everything for which I apply, and all my recommendation writers were very surprised to find I hadn’t been considered.

Instead, I committed myself to joining the legions of job-seeking young adults. I fixed my resume. I learned how to write cover letters. I went on Idealist.com all the time, looking for cool non-profit jobs in the DC/Baltimore area. I found a few that were interesting to me, and one or two that could be categorized as a dream job. But I just couldn’t bring myself to apply for any of them. Maybe I was just THAT lazy, or maybe these awesome opportunities weren’t exciting me for a reason.

MEANWHILE, back in February, my supervisor approached me about a new job opening with my current placement. I’d be in a very different role than I am now, one that worked my camp-counselor skills and interpersonal skills much more than my current desk job. She asked if I’d consider it. I said yes.

Well, as the months went by, the personnel committee decided that they didn’t just want to give this job to me, but wanted to do this by the book. I had to send in a cover letter, resume, and references, while simultaneously advertising the position on our social media pages (which was a bizarre experience? I mean, I could’ve sabotaged the mission easily…I didn’t, of course, and it got plenty of air time, but still…they didn’t think that through very well). 21 other people applied. Super.

But even that job, while I would’ve enjoyed it sometimes maybe, and would’ve done a good job…even that just wasn’t exciting me. I wasn’t SO PUMPED for it. Maybe if I had actually gotten the position, things would be different. But I never quite got that far…

On Wednesday, May 13, we had an all-day staff retreat. I was away from my computer for 6 hours. I come back, 3pm, and open up my email.

There’s an email from Marquette university, that reads a little something like this:

I nearly screamed.

I experienced more emotions in 2 hours than I have in 6 months. I fluctuated rapidly between panic, excitement, thrill, more panic, denial, and feeling very proud of myself. What the glorious eff was I going to do, exactly? I mean, a free ride. A FREE RIDE. And a stipend! THEY ARE PAYING ME TO GO TO THEIR SCHOOL. Like, talk about the opportunity of the century. I didn’t even apply for it!

If this wasn’t a sign from some sort of higher cosmic force, than I don’t know what is.

But I panicked. A lot. And, as my mom so nicely put it, I don’t react well to surprises and change, especially when those two things are delivered together. This was a HUGE surprise: grad school wasn’t even on the table anymore, not even in the kitchen….or in the neighborhood…like it was not part of any plan I had concocted for myself. And let’s not forget that MU is in Milwaukee, a solid 13 hour drive from the 3 areas I have lived in for the past 22 years.

So I did what I normally do with surprise-changes: immediate denial and immediate “NO”.

My mom, again being really smart, told me to NOT make this decision that day. Let it settle for a bit, stop freaking out (she knows me so well), and then decide when you’re of sound mind.

I remember going to sleep Wednesday night thinking “there’s no way you’re going to take it. You’re not going to go to Milwaukee. You’re not going to do it! Who are you kidding? Why is this even a thing?”

I woke up Thursday morning and, on the way to work, suddenly thought: “But, like, what if I DID though? What if I just…..like…went to Milwaukee??” I was overtaken by this sudden adrenaline rush, like I had suddenly decided to get on the biggest scariest roller coaster in the amusement park. It was the sudden thrill of disobeying my panic sensors and my logic-based intuition, the chunks of my consciousness that demand pro-con lists and only the BEST decisions.

What if I did just go to Milwaukee?

To make a long story short (too late), I talked to a bunch of people older than me who dropped plenty of nuggets of wisdom. But the most convincing one was my supervisor, who, after asking me a number of questions that made me realize I already knew the answer I was looking for, just looked at me, paused for a moment, and said:

“Jump. You have literally nothing to lose.”

SO I’M JUMPING. For once in my life, I’m diving headfirst into this insane Godsend of an opportunity (most likely a literally Godsend, also) and moving to the Midwest.

I’m real nervous. But I’m also filled with a thrilling sense of excitement and adventure.

I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I have literally NOTHING to lose by doing this. And if diving headfirst into something isn’t appealing, at least the risk-free gamble is.

Tl;dr version: I’m moving to Milwaukee for a VERY unexpected grad school opportunity, and am both terrified and excited by the prospect.

PS: if you have friends or contacts in Milwaukee who you think I should know/would get along with, please help me make friends with the Midwesterners.