Vision
“Grief is love persevering”
On Feb. 22, my world fell apart.
Four years of legacy, four years of commitment, four years of my life, all amounting to one spectacular moment; there was no point in high school when I wasn’t a part of this competition, this team, reaching towards this very moment. I entered as a freshman, led as a senior. As much as it has grown and changed, I have been shaped alongside it. I couldn’t bring myself to fathom its ending, but it came. It came when we lost the Mock Trial County Competition, all too quickly, all too unexpectedly.
The grief was slow. It crept its way through my chest: denial, anger, bargaining. I remember standing in my heels, shaking. I could barely balance, I felt so light-headed. I couldn’t process what had just happened, or rather, what hadn’t; our name hadn’t been called during the award ceremony; we wouldn’t advance to the finals, let alone the semis. Guilt. I remember the guilt. Immense, suffocating guilt that I had disappointed years of my upperclassmen, of the club that they had worked so hard to build a standing for. I kept telling myself I had to be strong for my team. I remember holding someone’s hand, I remember leading them out, I remember smiling, looking ahead. But, all I saw was devastation, shocked expressions, slow and laborious movements.
That’s when the tears came, flooding viciously into my composure. I didn’t cry for the loss. I didn’t care. I cried because this was inevitably the end. I cried because when I thought I had weeks left to be with my team, all of it was gone so abruptly. I kept thinking of what I would give just to practice our performance together one more time, to compete with them one more time, to be with them one last time. I knew it would never be the same again.
We cried together that day.
When I look back on that day, on Mock Trial, I don’t think about our competition, or our success. I remember the memories we created together, from the day-long scrimmages we spent together to the insane notes on yellow legal pad that we exchanged at counsel tables, to the fist bumps after every trial; I remember the mistakes we made, the small victories we shared. I remember them: my team, my friends, my family. And, yes, I remember the grief.
I still feel it.
But, in some strange way, I’m grateful. The tears I shed that day, the tears I shared with those around me, what are those tears but a symbol of my dedication to Mock Trial? The fact that I was able to experience such strong, overwhelming emotion is because of how much I put into that team, how much I adored them. Because as Vision says to Wanda, “what is grief, but love persevering?”
I don’t know if I’ll ever experience something like this again. If I had the chance to go back to my freshman year and join the club once more, I would do it all over again. I’d go through the pain, the suffering, the agony, the grief; I wouldn’t change a single thing.
Sincerely, thank you to my team.
