On the Death of My Student

February 27, 2009 by Marc Lamont Hill

Last Friday, I received a message that I had secretly feared for more than a year. After a long and brave battle with lung cancer, Trish Creegan, one of my favorite graduate students and a dear friend, had passed away. Although my inclination was to offer support to her family, I instead became hostage to my own sadness. Since finding out about Trish’s death, I have been able to do little else but cry tears of sadness, anger, and confusion.

While any death is traumatic, I was particularly devastated by the absurdity of Trish’s passing. Although she was a 40-year-old vegan who exercised regularly and never smoked, Trish was diagnosed with a form of lung cancer that was both rare and aggressive. As soon as I heard the news, I began rummaging through my mind for all the people who were more deserving candidates for early death: the chain smokers who’ve never been sick a day in their life; the convicted murderers who rot in prison cells until they’re 100-year-old; the child predators who walk the earth unnoticed and unpunished. Why were their lives spared at the expense of a brilliant student and fearless activist who worked hard, loved intensely, and fought valiantly for the rights of the vulnerable and the voiceless? It just didn’t seem fair. I have also been forced to consider even deeper existential questions: What does it mean to live in a world where unmerited suffering and unpunished evil dance together so smoothly. Why is there such a large gap between what we get and and what we deserve?

Of course, I haven’t come up with any answers. Indeed, philosophers, theologians, and everyday people have sought answers to such questions since the beginning of time. What I’ve learned, however, is that all humans, irrespective of race, class, gender, or geography, are death eligible. What I’ve also learned is that human life is a precious and fragile thing. This means that we must live our lives as intensely, productively, and freely as possible. It also means that, in our more spiritually mature moments, we must see the fallacy in wishing suffering upon others, even so-called bad people. Rather than asking “why?,” “why me?” or “why not them?,” all of which are perfectly human though ultimately futile questions, we must instead focus on loving, appreciating, and enjoying life for as long as we are fortunate enough to experience it.

Categories: MLH
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18 Comments

1. wouldn't you like to know? wrote:

AMEN.

i’m so sorry to read about the loss of your friend Marc. you hit the nail on the head when you say, to live and let live. that’s the way life should be. free and loving. it’s too short to complain. everyday i try to be more positive, loving, productive, and influential. if i die tomorrow, well, that’s the way i wish to go out…

keep your head up friend…you’re on the right track.

peace.

February 27, 2009 @ 1:25 pm

2. Hal wrote:

Powerful and so true. Thank you for sharing and I’m sorry for your loss.

February 27, 2009 @ 2:09 pm

3. james wrote:

marc, i read this piece the other day on the subway and was genuinely touched by it. sincerely effective and heart-felt questions at the end of paragraph 2, which you manage to answer very well at the end of paragraph 3.

you’ve probably already reread this poem by theodore roethke, but i thought i’d post it anyway….

Elegy for Jane
by Theodore Roethke

My Student, Thrown by a Horse

I remember the neckcurls, limp and damp as tendrils;
And her quick look, a sidelong pickerel smile;
And how, once startled into talk, the light syllables leaped for her,
And she balanced in the delight of her thought,
A wren, happy, tail into the wind,
Her song trembling the twigs and small branches.
The shade sang with her;
The leaves, their whispers turned to kissing;
And the mold sang in the bleached valleys under the rose.

Oh, when she was sad, she cast herself down into such a pure depth,
Even a father could not find her:
Scraping her cheek against straw;
Stirring the clearest water.

My sparrow, you are not here,
Waiting like a fern, making a spiny shadow.
The sides of wet stones cannot console me,
Nor the moss, wound with the last light.

If only I could nudge you from this sleep,
My maimed darling, my skittery pigeon.
Over this damp grave I speak the words of my love:
I, with no rights in this matter,
Neither father nor lover.

February 27, 2009 @ 2:17 pm

4. Clifton Harrison wrote:

true..and like the others, sorry for the loss.

February 27, 2009 @ 2:18 pm

5. DCI74 wrote:

Very sad and it’s just part of human nature to ask those questions when experiencing a loss. You put the words and emotions together very well in that piece Marc.

February 27, 2009 @ 2:42 pm

6. DCI74 wrote:

Hey Marc good to see your book is finally coming out, congrats.

February 27, 2009 @ 2:44 pm

7. ~JJG~ wrote:

Sorry for your loss Marc. Death challenges us to the core. It forces us to confront whatever gods may be and it may even cause us to fall out with our God. It is an experience that is universal and person-centered. Be encouraged!

February 27, 2009 @ 3:07 pm

8. lovely19 wrote:

***tears
…sorry marc

February 27, 2009 @ 3:33 pm

9. Miriam wrote:

beautiful-struggle.

February 27, 2009 @ 11:57 pm

10. Lisa wrote:

So sorry. Isn’t it wonderful that you knew her?

February 28, 2009 @ 6:04 am

11. Sandra wrote:

I’m very sorry for your loss. I’m sure if was very ….filling (you know that filling feeling you get in your chest when you KNOW someone loves you, like your mother) for her to know that her peers not only respected her but loved her also. I sure her family understands your grief and feels your support.

February 28, 2009 @ 11:40 pm

12. anita wrote:

I’ll never forget… I was a junior walkin’ down the hallway of my highschool with my sister who was a teacher there… Another teacher came to us as we were singing and skippin down the hall and told us the heartbreaking news, one of my friends died the night before. To this day I remeber it. To this day I still cry, 13 years later… I still dont know why her… I still don’t know how I got through singing the Lord’s Prayer at her funeral… It’s one of those ‘you put one foot in front of the other foot’ moments. Death is hard, especially when it seems out of order.

The only comfort I have for you and others is from a poem of my father’s that in part reads “Death is… the portal to heaven” it helps me to remember that death doesn’t translate to “the end” it’s like a conecting train on the transit system of life.
God be with you in this time of sorrow…

March 1, 2009 @ 2:22 am

13. natural nubian wrote:

my condolences marc.

March 2, 2009 @ 1:07 pm

14. natural nubian wrote:

my condolences marc.
after my father’s death (also due to cancer) back in 2000, i suggest reflecting on psalm 90:12.

March 2, 2009 @ 1:09 pm

15. Mrs. Rivers wrote:

Sorry to hear about your loss Marc. I had a great friend and mentor die about a month ago and I asked the very same questions you raised. We have to realize that this life is just a dress rehearsal for the real life – eternal life. Knowing that there’s a greater life beyond this helps me to cope with situations like these. You never know when you’re birthday in Heaven will be but for now, enjoy this life, take the time to actually live, and take the time to breathe and cherish the little things. Dont be sad. We will all eventually reconnect with our passed loved ones and friends. So as I told my dear friend a few weeks ago at her memorial service, ’see ya soon Ave’.

March 2, 2009 @ 5:35 pm

16. R.oB. wrote:

My aunt is dying of cancer as I write this, so I know how you feel Marc. Hers is as undeserving as any.

I went on retreat this weekend and have had a faltering faith re-affirmed. While I won’t try to answer all your questions directly, I can answer the gap question with this little nugget I got from the priest speaker who paraphrased Jesus and somebody rather modern:

“The kingdom is here, if you want it.”

March 2, 2009 @ 6:28 pm

17. Sherwood wrote:

So when is anyone more deserving of death? Or is that a liberal cultish thingee you have goin’ on?

March 11, 2009 @ 6:52 am

18. Mr. Carl wrote:

Sorry for your loss Marc.

March 11, 2009 @ 5:00 pm

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