It comes in waves.

Wave one: the initial shock after hearing the news.

It couldn’t be true, could it? We knew that Donna Neal had been in and out of the hospital for a while. Sure, she’d been gone most of the fall semester, but she always came back. It seemed she would always come back. Even at the wake, it felt as though she would wake up from her peaceful sleep in the casket. The funeral was beautiful, heart-wrenching, and yet, somehow, it was not a confirmation of the awful news we received. She was coming back. She always came back.

Wave two: the semester begins. This wave is not one of sadness, but one of fear. What are we going to do without Donna? She not only built this home for us, but she was the glue that kept it together. What are we going to do without Donna? We’ve gotten through meetings, through print nights, through internal conflict without her before… but she was always just a phone call away. What are we going to do without Donna?

We all spoke about the waves… it would come in waves and the second one might just be worse than the first, the third worse than the first two combined. It is true, it *does* come in waves, but what we failed to realize is that for every awful, painful, debilitating wave of sadness, anger, fear, and heartbreak, there is another wave of happiness, of fondness, of kindness, and of love. For each time you cry and scream over how much you miss her, there will be an accompanying smile and laughter over a memory with her. For each time your stomach turns and you feel sick knowing that the world is without her, you become full with love over the memory of visiting a New York City mac ‘n’ cheese restaurant, or of trying wine ice cream, or of the disgusting amounts of candy in her office that was always gone within the first week.

You see, the waves are there, but they don’t always have to leave you empty and heartbroken. The waves bring sadness, the waves bring anger, the waves bring unanswerable questions. But the waves also bring joy, the waves also bring peace, and the waves also bring comfort. To know Donna was to know kindness, to know love, albeit *very* tough love, and to know what it was to be a part of a family. I am grateful for the waves because they remind me of how blessed I am to have known such a wonderful person. I welcome the waves because they remind me of how capable I am to love and be loved in return. I am honored by the waves because they give me the opportunity to relive all the years I spent with Donna, through laughter and tears, through anger and resolve.

Thank you, Donna, for all you’ve given us. Even though the world is a much darker place without you, we will keep your light burning by continuing your good work and through our memories of you.