For someone who is supposed to be a scholar in communication, I am at a loss for all of the words that I want to say right now. Matter of fact, anytime any profound words come to me, I just cry instead.
Nearly 24 hours ago my adviser left this world...surrounded by family and finally free of the pain that this evil cancer brought upon her. And for that peace and renewal, I am in peace about. She died surrounded by her family that loved her so much--and was able to spend the past month since her diagnosis with them. These are the things that I remind myself as I true to make sense of this.
I wish that I understood life...why some people who are so amazing have life end much too soon, while truly evil people live. I hate it. I resent it. I can't be more eloquent.
Today our department replaced a regular colloquium with what was supposed to be a type of remembrance. Instead we talked about logistics like mail, websites, memorials, money...I don't even know what else. I blocked it out and tried not to cry.
I wish the words would come. I wish any memories would come. All I can do is stop, think, and ask myself how it is even possible that she is gone. I keep thinking I am going to wake up and this will all be a dream. Or that if I close my eyes and will myself, I will be able to connect to her. None of this is working. At all.
So, so many people are grieving. So many others with probably more significant relationships, people with less of a rocky history with her...I am sure my list could go on. We have had a rough past year in this advising relationship. By November, I felt it safe to conclude that 1. She was indeed deeply disappointed in my lack of progress and the direction that I took, and 2. I was sure she regretted that she agreed to be my adviser. I was ashamed beyond anything--I couldn't even talk to her about or all of the things in my own life that were making all of this more complicated. I was so concerned that she would think I was making excuses. So concerned if she saw my writing she would think I was a bumbling fool. We came to a place of understanding, I think. I always wanted her to like me best. I wanted to be one of the graduate students she asked to write a letter on her behalf for a teaching award. That she just checked in with or even acknowledged. I take part of that blame as I am a bit cold. And I closed myself off. And I wish I hadn't. But never knowing any of these things, any of these insecurities nags at me. And it will continue to. As I listen to people come out of the woodwork and talk about their wonderful relationships, I know I should relish in the stories and all of the beautiful things it says about it. It makes me miss her more. It makes me even sadder that I closed myself off and didn't talk to her.
I never had the chance to express my gratitude, to tell her all of the ways that she inspired me. I didn't get to tell her that she was one of the only people who believed in me when I started this program. I didn't get to tell her that asking me to be involved in a research project so many years ago opened my eyes to a research process that I deeply fell in love with. I didn't get to tell her that her enthusiasm and energy in the classroom and sincere concern about student learning and well-being follows me into my own classroom. I didn't get to tell her that all of the small things that she did to encourage me helped me so much. I didn't get to tell her that her that if it wasn't for her I would not have started this program. I didn't get to tell her that back in 2004 in her classroom I decided that I was interested in online communities and how they developed a sense of community. I didn't get to tell her that it meant so much to me that when everyone else thought I was irresponsible for parenting in a phd program, she encouraged me--she helped me think about the questions to ask, she always asked about my daughters, and she let me pump in her office for nearly two years. I didn't get to tell her that I came to this phd program because I wanted to work with her. I didn't tell her, when she laughed and said I don't know why you would want me to be your adviser that I couldn't imagine anyone else being my adviser. I didn't tell her any of these things because I thought I would have time. I thought we would have this beautiful sit down at the end of the program.
But that chance never came. All of the paperwork is done and she is gone. I have a new adviser. A new committee. Yet, I sit here waiting for her to come back, to send me some kind of sign. Rationally, I know this won't happen but I can't help it.
Don't get me wrong, my new adviser is amazing. She understands my project, gives me the freedom to write, tries to support me, and tries to explain to me that even though Renee didn't pat me on the head, coddle me, or treat me the same as the other graduate students, that she did indeed have trust in confidence in me as a scholar and truly was concerned about me.
I don't have a beautiful goodbye. I don't have a final conversation. Here is what I have:
1. Two emails from February 4 and 5. These emails told me what was going on when no one else new. These emails told me what I would do if something happened. In one email I was able to scratch the surface of what she meant to me. I know she knows that I wanted her so very much all of this time to be my adviser. Or at least I hold to that hope. I know she believed in my dissertation. I know she thought the idea was fascinating.
2. I finally met her husband. In all of his own grief, he asked me how I was and told me how worried Renee had been about what would happen to me. I am not sure if it is true, but I need to believe it was. And he hugged me. I never even hugged her. Not once in 9 years. She patted me on the back twice and once was in the middle of a panic attack.
I am not ready for any of this. I am not ready to move forward. I cry every time I write. I am not ready to let go. I close my eyes and try to escape reality when I realize she is gone. I cry every time I realize there is not going to be a last conversation, there isn't going to be closure, there isn't going to be that level of encouragement/reassurance that I am not a disappointment. In the grand scheme of things, this is petty. I know this. So many people are grieving and right now, my own insecurities are not relevant. Bur damn it, I just want a sign. I want to be petty.
I don't know where I go from here...or where anyone goes. I want to cry, I want to throw things, I want to quit. But instead, I remind myself to love my family, my friends and that there is only one thing that I can right now to overcome these insecurities...go forward, take a piece of her with me as I write this dissertation and let that piece of her come out in my own work. I can't have the conversation to express my gratitude. I only hope that my own writing and her influence on my research (and my writing) will come through.
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