I was shocked and deeply saddened to hear of Laura’s death on Sunday. I know Laura would not want people to dwell on the injustice of such a brilliant life cut short by cancer; she would want a celebration of the life she lived.
What I remember most about Laura was her laugh. It was singular and infectious. I recall cleaning tack and laughing. I recall walking cross-country courses and laughing. I recall her comforting me after a fall and her laughter as she helped me clean my cuts. She turned the focus from pain and humiliation to the value of the learning experience I had just endured and reminded me that TJ was a wonderful soul with the best intentions.
Laura could ride the horses everyone else thought were lost causes. I am reminded of 1 Corinthians 13, “Love is patient, love is kind…,” because this was how Laura approached riding. In fact, it was how she approached every aspect of her life. Pride was “difficult,” and Jenny was “dangerous,” until Laura showed them love and kindness. In her hands they became brilliant.
I don’t believe one could know Laura and remained unchanged. Quietly, kindly, Laura encouraged everyone to be stronger, braver, more loving versions of themselves, and to find humor and joy in every experience.
When Laura discovered Linguistics, she changed her entire career plan. This was an extremely difficult decision for many complex reasons, but Laura was not deterred because she knew her mind and she trusted her instincts. Laura was not afraid of difficulty, she was not afraid of hard work, and she was not afraid of anything that might impede her pursuit of what she believed in and loved.
Laura’s successes were greater because she freely shared them. I believe she saw her many achievements as meaningful because she could use them to help others. She was the rare individual who said to anyone, to everyone, “My success is also yours, take my hand, let me help you…”
I deeply regret losing touch with Laura after she moved to Connecticut. I got news of her death just before I was to give my last final of this semester. I sat in my car and cried while the Taco Bell Party Pack I was bringing for my students slowly cooled in the passenger seat. Of course, I called my mom and left a tearful, disjointed voicemail, then composed myself and went to class.
Education in the time of COVID is much more about providing a safe place for young people to make sense of their abruptly and completely changed world than it is about meeting the course learning outcomes. We didn’t really have a final. Instead, my students and I talked about plans for the future and the fun we had this semester. When the conversation allowed, I took the opportunity to tell each of my students how much I had seen them grow and how hard I knew they had worked this semester. The class concluded with an in-depth discussion on how to make exquisitely moist, flavorful cupcakes. The secret, apparently, is allowing the batter to sit in the refrigerator for two days so the flavors can develop and blend…
I believe this is what Laura would have done in a similar situation and I took inspiration from that. I didn’t try to hide my grief or explain it. I didn’t need to, it was where I was that day and everyone accepted that.
Laura, I learned that from you. Thank you. I love you.