When I first read the e-mail, I thought it was a belated April Fool’s Day joke: “I am deeply saddened to inform you that Michele Dufault, a Yale senior in Saybrook College, died last night…” Reality finally sank in after ten minutes of frantic searching online for more information. She was really gone. The entire day was filled with an empty feeling as my attention wandered during my first two lectures. I kept expecting Michele to suddenly appear out of nowhere and declare that everything is fine. But that never happened and I struggled to accept what happened.
My day took a turn for the better when a friend of mine visited me for Bulldog Days. I was glad for the distraction it provided. We joked about how overwhelming Bulldog Days can be and how underwhelming high school is by comparison. I tried to keep up my usual self around my friends by making jokes and laughing because I thought laughter can keep the emotional pain. And I was right. Laughing distracted me from reality as if the tragedy never happened. For me, laughter served as a personal defense mechanism by reducing the emotional burdens that I had to endure.
However, laughter could only serve as a temporary in a tragedy like this. It works as long as the laugher is disconnected from reality, a situation that cannot last. When I walked into the BRoom (band room) Wednesday evening, I was greeted by a somber atmosphere. The usual scene of chitchat and general merriment was replaced by subdued silence—which can be surprisingly striking. Laughter was brief and forced. Our collective grief and tears trumped the soothing effects of laughter. But I’m okay with it. Because sometimes sorrow and tears are the best psychological relief a person has in times of tragedy. Their effects can be much more powerful than laughter, which offers only temporary relief. True closure can come only after accepting the reality of the situation and realize the need to keep going.
I will miss her.
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