In the past three days, I've seen more Jumbos than I've seen in the past nine months. It's overwhelming, with classes starting and old friendships renewed - and helping new freshmen along their way to Brown and Brew and Sweet Creams. (You gotta help the freshmen, it's your bound duty seniors!)
But, seriously: with the Jumbo alma mater dancing in my head, surviving on caffeine kicks and not much sleep through this first week of classes, one thought keeps returning. Among the many faces I have seen, there's one I haven't seen and haven't heard from and who will never return my calls.
I went to see the "O"show, and though it's no Rent, I was reminded of this more forcefully when one of the characters began to speak and to sing of dying. He sang about his bewilderment at this new reality, never having taken drugs, slept around, never smoked, never drank. I felt the same this spring when I received a horrifying midnight call from one of my friends when I was in Paris. My friend Dave Medeiros had passed away, after a year struggling with pancreatic cancer.
Though theoretically I knew that his time was limited, I was still bewildered. The last time I saw my friend before I went away, he was buff from the gym and in full form as an actor in the December shows. He told all of us that he was in remission and "healthy as a horse" according to the doctors.
As the months went by I realized he wasn't coming back - no matter how healthy he had appeared before I left. But the one thing that continually struck me when I returned to the US this summer was "I won't see Dave when I go back to Tufts."
Sometimes I feel as though I'm losing my memories of him. Other times they come back very strong. Among our group of friends, there is only a silent bond: we don't ask each other how we're dealing with his loss any longer. I still wanted to cry when I heard all of the Elvis songs on the radio during Elvis week, but instead I closed my eyes and thought of us watching an Elvis movie together. But after the "O" show I cried because I think that he could have been in it if he were still here.
You have to move on with your life and remember people you've lost in the only ways that you can. There's a tradition in the Torah that you honor people's memories by celebrating life: a Rabbi still counseled my cousin to continue with her wedding a few days after September 11. So I guess my Jewish New Year's resolution is to honor Dave's memory by treasuring all the moments I have with friends in my last year at Tufts. After all, college is so short - and you never know how much time you have to be with the great friends that you've made these past four years.
Liz Lash is a senior majoring in international relations.
