Right Here at Home

This past weekend has been mentally toiling for a lot of people on campus. A young girl, though I had never met her, had her life cut short by nothing more than tragic circumstance. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time and was the subject of some person - no - a targeted, vile, and inhumane act of violence. The frightening part was that so many of her circles intertwined with mine; she was not simply another faceless stranger that faced senseless tragedy, but a name that now, I'd never forget. I had likely walked passed her studying at the library, likely had a few mutual friends, lived in the same suburb growing up, and even shared similar eventual career goals.

The garage where she was found and the reason she was there was by no means a stretch of imagination; rather, I had been there before, my roommates had been there before, other friends had been there before, whether it was to take pictures, to admire the views of the city at night, or to get a breath of fresh air - alone. The frequency by which I could imagine any number of people I knew

in that same situation was enough to rattle me. Throughout each of the developments, there was still hope. At first, hoping it was a natural death or an accident; then realizing there was foul play, hoping it was perhaps a robbery gone wrong; but every step of the way, the nightmare kept getting worse and worse, if that was even possible. The breaking point? Realizing that her perpetrator was a felon living so close to the campus we call home, someone who was released early, and someone who seemingly was just waiting for someone to prey on a year after his release.

Living in the Chicago area, in the midst of urban and many times conflicting populations, we've almost become desensitized to the safety warnings. Yes we are all careful; But, we still walk home from the library at 2 am or take long walks to West Campus entirely on our own, because it would serve no one if we lived in fear. However, this had the entire campus shaking in their boots. How is it that someone so undeserving of a death so cruel was subjected to it, where did we fail to provide her the security that she or any of our students deserve.

After this, the amount of bad news seemed heightened - it seemed like all that I could hear was tragedy. A teacher I once had posted about a car accident that killed her friend's husband and left her daughter requiring intensive care. A doctor's nurse was stabbed to death in her own home because of an abusive boyfriend. A fellow student had a bullet sent straight through the wall of her home. A video or two that had repeatedly been posted on social media about all the deadly conflict in the world - police brutality, humanitarian crises, Kashmir, Palestine, Uighur, Myanmar, Cameroon - the list goes on. What I'd like to know is this - how does it become so easy for people to devalue the life of their fellow humans?

However, the experience that was weighing me down the most, happened a few weeks ago. As I sat on the quiet floor of the library, the girl in front of me received a phone call and began repeatedly saying "oh my god." At first, I wondered who decided that gossiping on the quiet floor was ok, but then I looked up and saw the tears forming in her eyes. She left the room, but when she came back it was clear she had been sobbing. This stranger, whom I likely never saw before, had clearly just gotten heart breaking news. As much as anyone could say in that moment, I spoke up just to ask if she was ok - though I knew she wasn't; I just knew I needed to show some kind of warmth to perhaps counterbalance the pain she was feeling. She left, and I was gradually able to go back to studying. Days passed, and I felt no resolution. But one day, she passed me as I was walking to class. I could have simply registered that fact and walked past her, but something moved me to check in with her. She explained to me that she had lost her cousin, another UIC student, and that walking around campus felt like a nightmare now. She was graduating this semester, so hopefully she would be able to be at some kind of peace afterwards, but again, I was at a loss of any words to say in order to make her feel better.

There were so many tragic events happening all around me. The profession which I had chosen to pursue has always been a means of trying to alleviate suffering. But in this moment, and so many others this week, I felt helpless. It felt like nothing I said nor did could make any difference to those that were grieving or those that were hurt. The grief was not simply an illness that could be treated or cured, but rather a process by which I had muster the strength to support others through their difficulties. Such empathy is perhaps the greatest, yet most difficult, skill to master.

This week was hard for a lot of us. Thankfully, many of us had some kind of faith to keep us grounded and to keep us hopeful, and these images, to me, reflect just that. Dear Ruth, you were loved and will be remembered by many, your passing was nothing but unfair, and you deserve a place amongst the highest of heavens - rest in peace.