07/06/2020
Dear Class of 2020,
Like me, I am sure some of your earliest memories are of studying times tables so you could be good a math when you were a "big kid". While I, myself never really did become a mathematician - I did get really great at learning. Every late-night studying, hovering over heaps of homework was all for one thing: to get into college. I wanted it so badly, it was something I strived after every day. I wanted to be a part of an institution that would teach me about the world. I was hungry for knowledge, experimentation, growth. Getting into the University of Michigan was a gift won by determination and drive. Every day at this incredible university I truly struggled. None of this skill and knowledge came easy to me. But I loved it. The challenge fed me and strengthened me. Every difficult trial was won for one moment. To sit in that stadium. To be surrounded by peers. To hear the echoes of every person who fought as hard as I did to be here. To know, that my family was sitting in that stadium, looking down on me with pride, love, admiration. I fought for the moment where I could look up into the sky and see a thousand caps floating above me. I wanted that so badly. I know you did too.
There is not a moment since March 10th that I do not feel that the right to celebrate 20 years of commitment has been ripped out from under me. So desperately, I wanted to savor the springtime air on campus for one last time. Crawl bars with my coworkers. Hear the live music of my friends shake my ribs. Celebrate with all the creative souls the innovative magic we had made. Sit in the union sunlight over books and warm coffee with my people. Laugh and cry about leaving a place so routine and so home to us. I wanted to put my hard work on a stage and bow to it. I wanted my friends and family to hold my hand and tell me that they were proud, I wanted a group hug from my grandparents. How can we ever express what the month of May meant to us? It is not just a ritual and celebration and leaving. It is hope for the future. It is finally catching your breath. It is being able to let the pain and tension and aches of four years go, of a lifetime go. It is a time to admit to yourself - you did it. You accomplished this. You are powerful, strong, you are ready.
Some people will not let you grieve the loss of this sacred thing. Some will say you are not appreciative. Let me be clear: I am grateful for the actions we have taken to protect each other. Empowered by this global act of empathy. I am honored to be a part of that. I am thankful that you all choose to protect people like me, like my father, like my grandparents. However, to ask this to lessen the burn is an unfair ask. And I want us all to take a moment to grieve this loss. To feel the futility of struggle and strain and fully take in the anxiety and prosperity that was lost for us. It’s okay to be grateful and to grieve at the same time.
And to all the graduates, who let me photograph their last moments on this campus: thank you. Thank you for smiling, for laughing, for joking, for being resilient. It is hard to imagine how you kept your head held this high in rising water. I am so proud of you.
Dear class of 2020, Thank you.
