From the Editor

I had been so focused on the physical health of our students that I had not even begun to process the emotional and mental toll this virus was going to take ... .

JULIE WITH PRESIDENT POLLARD WHO POSED FOR PICTURES WITH SPRING GRADUATES BEFORE STUDENTS LEFT CAMPUS.

Perspective on Losses

Grieving Disappointments a Healthy Endeavor

One of my roles is to serve on JBU’s Crisis Response Team. The CRT is made up of 12 members from various departments — residence life, campus safety, HR, ITS, academics, health services, facilities and communications — and meets as needed for a variety of circumstances. The pandemic has certainly been an unexpected challenge.

From our first meeting in January that led to the cancellation of international Spring Break trips, to the first weeks of March when we were meeting multiple times a week, the preparation and planning for how the pandemic might affect JBU evolved rapidly and changed dramatically from moment to moment.

At 8 a.m. on March 12, President Pollard met with the CRT and laid out the decision to send our students home and transition to remote education. It was an emotional decision for all of us. The rest of the day was a flurry of preparations — writing a statement of our plans, planning that evening’s Community Service to tell students, dealing with media inquiries and preparing information for the website and emails.

As President Pollard met with students that evening, I was back in my office hitting send on emails to students, faculty, staff, parents, alumni and the media. By the time I made my way to the cathedral, students were exiting out onto the quad.

As I got closer, I wasn’t prepared for the tears and the full range of emotions on display – shock, disbelief, sadness, anxiety. A couple hundred students remained inside the cathedral, gathered in small groups, talking and hugging.

I had been so focused on the physical health of our students that I had not even begun to process the emotional and mental toll this virus was going to take on our students, our faculty and staff, our families and our communities.

We have all suffered losses. The postponement of JBU’s commencement meant I missed walking across the stage and getting hooded in celebration of completing my master’s degree. My trip to Singapore with my best friend was postponed, a family reunion never materialized and my daughters lost prom, indoor percussion season and a high school graduation ceremony.

Amidst the significant death toll and illness wreaked by this virus, it feels selfish to complain about those losses — they can’t possibly compare. When people have been laid off or furloughed from jobs and are struggling to make ends meet, it feels frivolous to worry about missing trips, family events and other milestones.

But grief is not always logical. While it is important to maintain perspective, I wasn’t loving my daughters well by downplaying their disappointment. Instead, I realized it was more important to empathize and say “I’m sorry. I know you’re disappointed.”

In “A Grief Observed,” C.S. Lewis wrote, “I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state but a process.” Grief is a process we must work through. Bypassing the processing only prolongs the effects. In this season of loss and disappointment (big or small), it’s important that we acknowledge those losses, feel all the feelings, seek solace in Christ and our community and allow ourselves the time and space to work through our grief.

Julie Gumm ’95 is director of university marketing & communications and editor of the Brown Bulletin.