Posts Tagged ‘growing up’

Chapter 4: Another Kind of Growing

Thursday, July 3rd, 2025
Lunch with family on a random Sunday

Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision to stay home for college. Honestly, I kind of regret it sometimes. I chose to stay because I wanted to be there for my parents. Coming from an immigrant family, I felt this responsibility, like my presence might make things easier for them, like I owed them that much after everything they had sacrificed. 

At first, it felt like the right choice. My parents were happy I stayed, and there was a kind of comfort in being home.  It felt easier in a way. I got to stay in my room, sleep in my bed, have my own routine, and just be the old me. I also liked being around if they needed help with something, like paperwork or errands, or even just to sit and talk. It felt like I was doing the right thing, for them and myself.

Over time, things started to feel different. Staying close meant I was there for everything. Not just the warm family dinners or quick chats in the kitchen, but also the tension, the arguments, the quiet disappointments. I don’t know exactly when it shifted, but once college started and I settled into my routine, I began noticing things I hadn’t before. The closer I stayed, the more clearly I saw them. Not just as my parents, but as people. I started seeing the cracks in how they speak, how they handle stress, how they show love, and how they fail every day.

The more I see, the more I want to run. Not because I don’t love them, but because I know them too well. 

Sometimes, I regret that I’m not growing the way others are. My friends who live on campus talk about doing their laundry at midnight, cooking instant noodles together, and pulling all-nighters in the library. They tell stories about navigating awkward roommate situations, learning how to budget, arguing with friends, and fixing it on their own. They’re learning how to be adults. 

I, on the other hand, come home to food that’s already made. I don’t worry about whether the laundry machine is available or if the communal bathroom is clean. I’m still someone’s child in this house, not quite my own person. And when I fight with a friend, I don’t go knock on their door two floors down and talk it out at 2 a.m. I just sit with it. Alone. 

There are times I want to tell my friends I made this choice for a reason. I stayed to help my parents, to be present, to save money. But still, I feel like I’m not becoming the version of myself I thought I’d be by now. I want to say all of this out loud, but I don’t.

Instead, I nod along when they talk about dorm drama and late-night adventures, even though I can’t relate. I laugh when they joke about bad dining hall food while I’m washing dishes at home. I say I’m doing great, even when I’m not sure what I’m doing at all. It’s easier that way. Less explaining. Less chance they’ll look at me with that mix of pity and confusion, like I’ve missed out on something I’m supposed to want.

And maybe I have. But I’ve also gained something they haven’t.

I’ve learned how to be there for people, even when it’s hard. I’ve learned how to show up every day—not just when I feel like it, but because someone depends on me. I’ve learned how to be still. How to be grounded when everything feels uncertain. Living at home hasn’t just kept me close to my family, it’s brought me closer to myself. I’ve noticed how my mom sighs differently when she’s tired versus when she’s disappointed. I’ve memorized the quiet routines that make this house function, the invisible labor that held my childhood together. I’ve gained the kind of strength that doesn’t announce itself. The kind that comes from choosing the hard thing, over and over, without anyone clapping for you. The kind that builds slowly, through early mornings, through uncomfortable silence, through the ache of watching life happen elsewhere.

It’s not loud. It’s not charming. But it’s mine. And one day, I think I’ll look back and realize this was a version of becoming, too. Just not the one I expected.

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By Marzia Seemat

Marzia Seemat is a sophomore at NYU studying civil engineering and creative writing. She loves being close to nature, especially at the beach. Her favorite things include good food, morning tea, hour-long movies, and spending time with the people she loves.

For over 25 years, the Campus Clipper has helped college students in New York City—and later in Boston and Philadelphia—save money and succeed in city life. We offer a digital coupon booklet with discounts on food, clothing, and services, plus an Official Student Guidebook with real advice on how to navigate college life in a big city. Our internship program lets students build skills, earn money, and publish their own e-books. Follow us on Instagram and TikTok @CampusClipper, and sign up for our newsletter to get deals straight to your inbox. To access the digital coupons, scan the QR code on our printed card, available in dorms, student centers, and around campus.

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Crash Course Connections Ch. 3: Parenting Apart

Wednesday, June 25th, 2025

For many, college represents the first real step into adulthood. It’s a time of personal growth, exploration, and, inevitably, distance from the comfort of home. Whether you’re just a few miles down the road or hours away by plane, the transition is rarely easy. It’s not just about leaving your bed or your family meals behind; it’s about redefining your daily support system. One of the most unexpected challenges I faced wasn’t the academic load or even the social adjustment- it was recalibrating my relationship with my parents.

When I moved from Long Island to Manhattan for college, I initially thought I was too close to home. A simple train ride away, I figured I’d be able to maintain my independence while still dipping back into the familiarity of home whenever I wanted. I had spent that last summer completely surrounded by my family, and I was more than ready, or so I thought, to spread my wings. I welcomed the idea of a break, some distance, a fresh start.

My parents, Ed and Katina O’Connor circa 2000.

But reality hit hard. My dorm room felt cold and empty the first night. It wasn’t the physical distance that got to me; it was the emotional shift. I found myself calling home far more than I expected. I’d call to ask about little things like laundry or just to hear a familiar voice. It wasn’t my parents checking up on me; I was the one reaching out.And in those first few weeks, I went home three out of the four weekends. Looking back, I realize I was trying to straddle two worlds, not fully committing to either. As much as I wanted to build something new, I couldn’t let go of the old.

But this is where some advice I got during my senior year of high school came back to me. My guidance counselor, Mr. Spenato, told me something that really stuck:

“You will be homesick. Those first few months are hard. Many students go back home thinking they’re not ready, that they should take a gap year. And for a select few, maybe that’s true. But for most? They just need to push through. Call home as much as you want but, stay there. Give it a real shot.”

Graphic of girl feeling homesick while studying. Illustration by Ren Rader

So I stayed. I still called home often, sometimes daily, but I began putting more energy into life at college rather than life outside of it. I said yes to social events, joined clubs, explored the city, and slowly began building a routine. I carved out a space for myself in a place that initially felt so foreign.

It didn’t happen overnight. But little by little, what once felt strange started to feel normal. My relationship with my parents evolved, too. Instead of being part of every moment, they became the people I updated—my biggest fans from afar. As I grew more comfortable with my independence, our conversations became less about needing comfort and more about sharing my growth.

In hindsight, I see how important that shift was. You don’t lose your relationship with your parents in college;, you simply redefine it. They stop being your constant presence and become your foundation. And through that distance, I found a new appreciation for the bond we shared.

Family trip to Disney, right before I began my first semester at NYU.

College forces you to change both your environment and how you relate to the people who raised you. It’s a painful process at times, but it’s also essential. You come out of it more independent, more self-aware, and often, with a stronger relationship than before.

So if you’re in the thick of that first semester and wondering whether it gets better, know that it does. Push through the homesickness. Stay. Give it a real shot. And call home when you need to.


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By Logan O’Connor

Logan is a rising senior at NYU pursuing degrees in Journalism and Politics. She grew up on Long Island, but always dreamed of living in New York City. When she’s not in class or at her favorite local cafe, you can find her wandering the city (film camera in hand) or baking up a storm in her kitchen.

For over 25 years, the Campus Clipper has helped college students in New York City—and later in Boston and Philadelphia—save money and succeed in city life. We offer a digital coupon booklet with discounts on food, clothing, and services, plus an Official Student Guidebook with real advice on how to navigate college life in a big city. Our internship program lets students build skills, earn money, and publish their own e-books. Follow us on Instagram andTikTok @CampusClipper, and sign up for ournewsletter to get deals straight to your inbox. To access the digital coupons, scan the QR code on our printed card—available in dorms, student centers, and around campus.

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Don’t Take Home For Granted

Friday, May 31st, 2024

Whenever I tell people I’m from California, I usually get a range of surprised and intrigued reactions. “Oh really, Norcal or Socal?” or, “I’ve always wanted to go to LA” are frequent responses. My revelation is usually followed by the disclaimer that I come from the Central Valley, where it isn’t all flashing lights and sunny beaches. With that being said, I’ve always recognized that the Central Valley has a beauty of its own. It’s home to a cornucopia of fruits and vegetables, producing ¼ of the nation’s food according to the U.S Geological Survey. The towns that surround me boast the titles of “Raisin Capital of the World” and “The Nation’s Salad Bowl”. These small towns aren’t as glamorous as big cities like Los Angeles or San Francisco, but they still maintain their own qualities that make them noteworthy.

A photo of the vineyards in my backyard at home.

Social interactivity is another one of California’s endearing qualities. It’s not uncommon to walk down the street and greet other passersby with “goodmorning” or “how are you doing?”. Common courtesy extends to strangers, and hospitality embraces neighbors, friends, and loved ones. The plethora of produce available also functions as a bridge between people, forming and fostering relationships. Looking back on my childhood, I remember going over to my neighbor’s house to pick up fresh eggs and squash from their farm. Other times my neighbor would come over and we would eat cookies together. The sense of community and hospitality was so natural, it was second nature. Little actions like acknowledging each other, saying please and thank you, or gift-giving were customs that I grew up with. These interactions occurred on an individual level and served to foster a greater sense of community statewide. I never noticed that these manners were particular to the region that I grew up in until I left it. I can recall my first time on the subway, and immediately being aware that this wasn’t the place to ask “how’s your day going?”. Even though this would be completely normal in California, over time I’ve adjusted to the unspoken rules of the city.

Accessibility and connection were the things that I took for granted back in California. While I can only describe my personal experience in detail, I know that these feelings are natural and universal. I’ve bonded with so many classmates over reminiscing on the little features of our homes that we miss, most notably our favorite west coast coffee shop: Dutch Bros. However, this nostalgia is not limited to the small, agricultural towns that I’ve described so far. The value in changing one’s environment can apply to city natives as well. In a city like New York, you can especially differentiate your home on the regional scale as opposed to the state scale. A neighborhood like Harlem, which features a median age of 36, is predominately Black, and a median income of $58,489 is starkly different from a neighborhood like Riverdale, Bronx, which has a median age of 41, is predominately White, and a median income of $77,840. The important difference is not based on geography, but rather culture and experiences. By putting yourself in a new position, you’ll learn a lesson that is easier said than done: to not take your home for granted.

 Every home has aspects of it that are simply irreplaceable. It’s hard to leave them, but in my opinion it’s necessary. There is so much value from leaving everything you have ever known for something new. Regardless of your upbringing, the experience of moving to a new place with different foods, people, and customs will make you a better person. Not only will you be more knowledgeable about the world, but you’ll be able to appreciate your home from a fresh perspective.

By Thomas Stewart

Thomas currently attends Columbia University and plans to double major in creative writing and human rights. At Columbia Thomas is a staff writer for the City News section of the Columbia Daily Spectator, where he publishes articles that concern the West Harlem community. In his free time, you can find him practicing music or trying new vegetarian recipes.

While it may not be as fresh as the Central Valley, students and faculty can get up to 20% off on produce at Uptown Whole Foods.

For over 20 years, the Campus Clipper has been offering awesome student discounts in NYC,  from the East Side to Greenwich Village. Along with inspiration, the company offers students a special coupon booklet and the Official Student Guide, which encourages them to discover new places in the city and save money on food, clothing, and services.  

At the Campus Clipper, not only do we help our interns learn new skills, make money, and create wonderful e-books, we give them a platform to teach others. Check our website for more student savings and watch our YouTube video showing off some of New York City’s finest students during the Welcome Week of 2015.

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Love and Other Problems: Fading Nostalgia

Monday, June 27th, 2022

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Fading Nostalgia

After walking away from home to travel to an unfamiliar, towering city, I wanted to figure out what to do, what I wanted, what type of love I wanted. While I did try to brush old dust off my hands, put ‘figuring things out’ in a casket and let life take me wherever it wanted, I’ve realized that while I met someone new everyday, I never had a connection with someone that made us more than casual friends. My life became full of friends you see occasionally, friends you’d grab a coffee with but it would be too much to get serious, to vent about trivial things, to share your fears because, well, now everyone’s uncomfortable. These friends were like holding a lit firecracker between my teeth; fun, explosive, painful and with me for a minute. 

After watching another blank smile, another the-one-that-‘walked’-away, an age old story, the sound of cold footsteps becoming fainter and fainter was a rhythm I became all too familiar with. So I thought about the most intense form of love I could experience; romantic. I’d had three relationships in the past, three very different ideals and experiences, three different lessons learnt—and I came out of them with three different understandings of what type of love I wanted. 

The first was foolish and exciting. I never wanted to think about the relationship too seriously and never thought about why I didn’t want that—this love had fumbled somewhere, I didn’t know its purpose anymore and so it was an inevitable end. The second was a blazing meteor and maybe my karma for the nonchalant mess of the first—it was a crash-and-burn-and-run scene, a rehearsed speech and anger and pettiness, a gaslighting, nauseating mess; in hindsight it was for the best that it ended. The third was less intense and exciting than the others, it was healthy and good and pretty, it was comfortable, but we had no chemistry. The contrast between the previous excitement and current calm became boring and my words had lost their meaning somewhere between my heart and mouth. There was no point in lying to myself and forcing it, so I ended it. We did stay friends, but then I changed and he changed and we didn’t get along anymore. 

These feelings and experiences molded what I looked for in others — I knew more about myself as a person and what I wanted out of people, not just partners but also friends. Some of these attributes seemed obvious, but I apparently needed them slapped across my face to see clearly. Looking back at every lesson I’ve learnt and every moment that was spent learning loudly through tears or screaming or quietly through silences and overthinking (all silly things now and I skirt from recalling them too often before unpleasant memories can fully form, before they can bite) I comprehended a large reason as to why it was becoming so hard to grow close to someone in college: fear. I comprehended this through a fourth almost-relationship that I had. He was perfect, with a pretty eye-smile and was sweet and funny, but I was scared of timing and life (it didn’t seem like the right time, being so new to the city, but when I got that there was no ‘right time’, it was too late), so I rejected him and it was something I ended up regretting. Fear took this from me and gave in return a lot of mediocre could-have and would-haves. 

I made mistakes and I learnt, people made mistakes and I learnt too. Love in college was harder than I expected (where my expectation was borne from books and other fiction). I wanted the same things as these rose-tinted fantasies but it hasn’t been easy. I don’t have a storybook arc, I don’t face a challenge to come out ‘stronger’ or anything remotely similar, love and life in reality doesn’t like to be so straightforward.

out with my friends for our last new year together!

I did not think of these challenges when I started classes at NYU, and then I made the aforementioned mistake of just ‘watching, not trying’. I did like people, people I saw across the room, people who were in my classes, pretty, smart, gorgeous and fun people. I talked to them too, I got to know them superficially but that was it. I talked to them when I had an excuse, but that was also how I talked to any new friends I had made…and they all stayed like that: friends. This wasn’t a terrible life-ending situation to be in, but it got exhausting when everything seemed to be going well and then there was a halt, a stagnant sort of space where nothing became of our talking or closeness. Then we fell out of touch.

That was when I thought back to just a year ago, how all of my experiences had shaped who or what I wanted. There’s a lot of people who think everything that happened in high school was supposed to stay there, but I disagree. I liked who I was in high school because it shaped what I want today, and everything that I had experienced wasn’t as irrelevant as people made it out to be. In the excitement of moving from one stage of my life to another, it was really easy to forget what I had figured out from my time there, and easier even to claim a fresh start instead. That didn’t help me, it just set me back.

This comprehension came later though, a semester-into-my-freshman-year later. There was a lot I sat through in that first semester which made me think back to high school, and ultimately the contemplation shaped me into a person better prepared for the rest of the years I had left in university and even after. It made me learn how to tackle love and friendships in a way that would result in the outcome I wanted, an outcome that would leave me happier for it.

dinner with new friends in the city!

While attempting to talk to people there were a lot of restaurants I visited with different people, I used to visit Bareburger with a coupon that I found really helped override the costs that came with eating out so often! Take the opportunity and grab this coupon for Bareburger for a great lunch with your friends too!

By Mahrukh Shaikh

Mahrukh Shaikh is a student at New York University studying Business and Finance with a Marketing concentration. She has been writing and creating literature for years and is fond of various artistic mediums and social issues.

For over 20 years, the Campus Clipper has been offering awesome student discounts in NYC, from the East Side to Greenwich Village. Along with inspiration, the company offers students a special coupon booklet and the Official Student Guide, which encourages them to discover new places in the city and save money on food, clothing, and services. At the Campus Clipper, not only do we help our interns learn new skills, make money, and create wonderful e-books, we give them a platform to teach others. Check our website for more student savings and watch our YouTube video showing off some of New York City’s finest students during the Welcome Week of 2015.

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new beginnings and piercings as self-love

Monday, June 27th, 2022

Every time someone asks about how I picked Lesley University, I have a tendency to joke that I was following my ex-girlfriend. 

On one hand: this isn’t entirely true- the school had plenty of what I was looking for, including both of the majors I wanted, a supportive and queer-friendly environment, and a campus stretching across Cambridge. On the other: I do think going into higher education knowing someone who was both my best friend (at the time) and very dear to me did a lot to boost my confidence. 

I had a built-in friend, a way to start off the first of four years with a sort of social safety net. I had someone to talk to about the hardships of starting the higher-education portion of adulthood and the anxiety of moving into a new place. I had someone to do homework with, late into the night on scratchy dorm room carpeting. I had someone to complain with about the occasionally-questionable dining hall food. I had someone, and that made the nervousness of being in a new place slowly, surely, ebb into the background. This didn’t stop either of us from making friends as we both found our places within our new community, but it got us through the first few months as we began to build up new relationships. 

Having someone around who already knew me, accepted me, and encouraged me to be myself also made it much easier to get comfortable in my own skin- both as a new college student and as a trans and queer person coming of age. Fortunately, my school had plenty of overlap between the two, with a plethora of my freshman class being in a similar literal and physical transition. We were all looking to make homes out of our bodies, and one of the most obvious ways to do that was to get a new piercing.

About a week or two into my college experience at Lesley University, my ex decided she wanted a septum ring. Eager to work towards my own accumulation of piercings and to mark the pivotal shift into freshman year on my body somehow, I decided I would tag along. So, on one fateful student-discount Tuesday, we headed down the red line into Central Square, popping into the Boston Lucky’s for walk-in appointments. After a half-hour of sitting on some really nice leather chairs and admiring the jewelry selection by the cash register, I was escorted into the piercing room. The process itself only lasted a few minutes. A gloved hand ran an alcohol wipe around the center of my nose; a needle and horseshoe-shaped piece of metal followed suit, threaded through the cartilage without much fanfare. 

Little freshman-year-Ness standing on the sidewalk, staring down the tattoo shop. Done in layered green lineart.
Little freshman-year-Ness standing on the sidewalk, staring down the tattoo shop.

An hour after our arrival, we walked out together with our matching piercings. The new hole in my nose was all I’d hoped it would be. It looked great. My parents, however, were not on the same page. 

They called later that night. “It was a waste of money,” my mom chastised. “I don’t even think I want to come visit you on parents’ weekend.” My dad echoed the sentiment, taking the time to text me that he hoped it would get torn out. They warmed up to it as soon as they realized it could be flipped up, but the rift it caused felt emblematic. 

While a little warning might’ve done wonders to prevent any familial unrest, I did what I did for me. I love my family, but part of paving my own path meant not conforming to their standards. Rather, I was setting my own. And it wasn’t just little 2018 Ness who decided to kick off their journey into higher education with a piercing. In a 2006 article from the JAMA Network, one Lester Mayers noted that 51% of university students surveyed had piercings, while 23% had tattoos; with the destigmatization among the workplace and accessibility of body modifications, the number has only gone up (Sequential Survey of Body Piercing..). In Hallie Long’s article from the DePaulia, she interviews freshly-tatted Angie Rainey, who declares that the tattoo she got in college “caught [her].. at such a transformative and new time in.. life” (https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/15193575/). The body is a temple, and so many people have taken it upon themselves to decorate theirs to reflect burgeoning personal style. By making the decision to kick off college with a piercing, I became one of many new students who made similar choices, a way of making their bodies feel more like a refuge among the turbulence of life. Even in periods of great change, the one thing we can control is ourselves. 

Self-expression through body mods is a fairly common, healthy mechanism for self-discovery.

Another article from the Journal of Adolescent Health deems the reasoning behind piercings to be an act of identity, rather than rebellion (Contemporary College Students and Body Piercing). Between myself and the people I knew, most of us who were modifying our bodies (whether through our piercings, tattoos, or haircuts) were doing so as a way to find a sense of community within an alternative subculture. It was a statement of self, seeking out community and building our own confidence rather than actively trying to disrupt a peace within our immediate families. It was just that now, we had the freedom to find this new place for ourselves.

I started my first year of college nervous. Nervous about my relationship, about school, about the friendships I had yet to find. I was nervous about my parents, about getting homesick, about whether or not we’d see eye-to-eye. I was worried about whether or not the new hole in my body would heal properly. But even in the wake of all the fears about the future, I knew I’d be okay.

And you know what?

I am.

Glow-up of the century.

tl;dr: be nervous if you must, but know you’ll be okay.

Sometimes making the perfect change to your look is the thing that makes you feel your best and most confident, and there’s nothing quite like a fresh cut to help you feel your best… dare I say, nothing feels quite as marvelous! 

For that life-changing, new-kid-on-campus chop, treat yourself to a place that really understands the power of looking and feeling your best, like Marvelous Barber Lounge. With the help of Campus Clipper, you can get 20% off on the ultimate grooming experience- just bring your student ID and your coupon to redeem!

By Ness Curti

Ness Curti is a freshly-graduated illustrator from the Lesley College of Art and Design. A part-time bobarista and full-time New England adventurer, they hope to one day tell stories for a living, whether through art or words. They enjoy doodling, procrastinating, and saying hello to the dogs they pass on the sidewalk.

For over 20 years, the Campus Clipper has been offering awesome student discounts in NYC,  from the East Side to Greenwich Village. Along with inspiration, the company offers students a special coupon booklet and the Official Student Guide, which encourages them to discover new places in the city and save money on food, clothing, and services.  At the Campus Clipper, not only do we help our interns learn new skills, make money, and create wonderful e-books, we give them a platform to teach others. Check our website for more student savings and watch our YouTube video showing off some of New York City’s finest students during the Welcome Week of 2015.

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Late Night Creations

Friday, July 2nd, 2010

written by Sabina Ashbaugh

We always substitute an egg with two tablespoons of vanilla soymilk—a slight variation that leaves the dough runny and easier to mix with the cracked wooden spoon. The timer is set for 12 minutes, not 14 as the cookbook suggests, with a reminder at the six-minute mark to switch the top and bottom trays in the oven. Despite these careful discrepancies, accumulated over countless nights, our creations are never completely predictable. We speculate whether it might be the heat of the dimly lit kitchen, and that volatile summer breeze that seeps in through the windows and seems to soften the contours of the room.
Despite our many trials, my sister and I never fully plan our baking efforts, or even carefully measure out the ingredients of our amended recipes. The soymilk substitution, now a permanent step in the cookie making process, came from a late realization that the egg carton was deceptively empty. As if to support this impulsiveness, the planned desserts baked for family dinners—the pumpkin or apple pies, the blueberry cobblers, the cinnamon buns, the madeleines—are never as good as the spontaneous endeavors to satisfy late night cravings. The immediate satisfaction of these creations quickly assuaged the worries and anxieties amassed during school or work. Tasks divided and ingredients laid out, my sister and I get to work setting right the wrongs of the day.
It has been a year now since I moved away from home. Some months have flown by while others have painstakingly inched to a close, with pangs of homesickness and late night baking cravings that seemed to arise out of nowhere. Family, a concept that had seemed so natural and tangible just a year ago, has slowly been abstracted to stand for that sense of place so radically reconfigured after leaving for school. In times of stress, I often caught myself about to call the house with a confused plea of “What should I do?”
With distance I have come to realize how often I unintentionally underappreciated this form of support. I cringe at the thought that the ease and spontaneity of those nights spent baking are a lost bridge between my sister and I—treasured memories to look back on fondly but ones impossible to recapture. And yet the removal of this crutch has also forced me to examine how I will right the wrongs of the day in my own way—not by baking, but through the careers and choices that lie ahead.
Moving away is an exciting step towards independence and deciding how and what one wants to change in the world. In the midst of so many choices, the advice offered by family is a means of grounding oneself in times of transformation. Finding a niche in college involves exploring how one will contribute to society and improve the lives of others, but it also requires the recognition of the debt owed to those at home.
Growing up compels us to accept these recipes, relationships, and plans for future change. Family rituals become memories as traditions are re-made. It is important to maintain ties with those that helped us get where we are, and continue to want to see us succeed. Helping others starts by looking out for and appreciating those at home, and paying tribute to those left behind.

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Posted in Friendship, onHealth, onValues, Relationships, Student Maximu$ Summer/Fall 2010 | No Comments »

I don’t wanna grow up; I just wanna be a Toys’R’Us kid.

Friday, May 14th, 2010

Today, a friend of mine’s mother passed away. I had never met the woman, but I know she’s been sick on and off the entire time my friend, one of my first in New York, and I have known each other. But platitudes like “she’s in a better place” or “at least she’s not feeling any pain” really don’t seem to do much good for anyone who hears them. It’s almost the opposite — like saying, “Hey, you’re mom isn’t hurting anymore so you really shouldn’t be so sad.” So what should you say?

I’ve never been good with comforting people, or dealing with other’s emotions at all, actually. It’s one thing to know that I should be there for my friend, should offer to go to the funeral and support her — it’s another thing entirely to do that and not get swept up in trivial things, like the Celtics clinching the Cavs’ series.

I foolishly put myself in her spot the other day, imagining it was my dad who just died and I had to convince myself not to call him, just to make sure he was okay even though I knew that nothing could have happened to him in the time since we’d last spoken. I’ve always had a strong imagination, though, and watching a friend’s grief does nothing to stop that.

I can admit to myself, and by extension the World Wide Web through this blog, that if a friend from home just lost a relative, the situation would be different. Last year, a close friend’s mother passed and there was literally nothing more important than getting back to Jersey to be there for her and her family, who I’ve known my entire life. I wonder if just the length of time one person can know another factors into that extra effort that is willingly put forth without thought, or if, as awful as it is to think, some people just matter more. I don’t like to think that, to think that one friend can be held to different standards than another — but that’s probably how it is.

Not offering any comfort may just be my own cowardice; at twenty I hate being faced with any reminders of mortality, no matter what the case is. I don’t believe it to just be a fear of death, that’s too simple. It’s more a fear of not being young anymore, of growing up and losing vitality and vibrancy and the joie de vivre. My father is turning fifty in a few weeks, and I know aging bothers him a lot more than it does my mother. I get that from him, I guess, though it is silly for someone my age to care about growing older so much unless it is a desire to finally reach twenty-one. For the record, I couldn’t care less about being twenty-one and I sometimes find myself wishing I was still a teenager.

This blog seems to jump from point, or non-point, rather, to non-point. I do have one though — a point that is.

They say the friends we meet in college are the ones that will last the rest of our lives. If that’s true, no amount of personal discomfort should keep us from being there for our friends; regardless of if it’s being there at a funeral, or letting a friend crash on the couch during finals’ week to escape a commute to Long Island. Though no longer kids, people in their late teens and early twenties still have that innate selfishness that wants everything in life to revolve itself around their comfort — but that’s not what happens. Accepting that, and being there for other people despite ourselves, is one of those first, and terrible, steps to growing up.

-Mary K

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