Seventeen

There are days to remember, for good or for bad. Wedding day. Day you met the boy. Day you got your first real job. Day you graduated from college.

Days to forget, though you never will. 9/11. When loved ones pass away. When fifteen year old girls pass away. Horrible days.

It was seventeen years ago Monday--the same day of the week--when Star closed. I was seventeen, so it was almost a half-lifetime ago. Wow. I was a Junior in high school, and I remember that morning and sitting in the library and being a bit shell-shocked. At the time, it was one of the worst moments in my life. It still is.

Senior year is supposed to be this almost idyllic time, a happy year as you transition from being a child to an adult (sort of an adult, maybe). But I never enjoyed senior year, and that marked the start of one of my saddest years.

All of these years later, it affects me. Maybe in a different way than it did then. I still don't fully trust the leadership of the Catholic church, and I never will trust the Detroit archdiocese. I never thought they cared. I know people can be racist and mean. I know they can be selfish. I know that sometimes hopes and expectations can be lowered dramatically, when you least expect. I know that you can go your separate ways and not look back even though you don't fully move forward.

My heart always breaks a little when I hear about a school being closed, to this day, especially if it is a Catholic school. I understand economic realities and those kinds of practicalities. But I don't think there's a way to soften the blow, and even thought it is NOT FAIR, it still has to happen. But I know how much it hurts that day and the next day and six months later.

I don't even say this as someone who left behind a lot of friends, who was part of the "in crowd." I endured Senior Year, I didn't care so much about forming friendships then, and I survived and later thrived in college and afterward.

But I say it as someone who wanted that year to be a time of achievement, academic or otherwise. And I postponed that, well, not really. I settled for something else, a symbolic achievement.

And it is okay. I made my peace with that for the most part.

But every April 19, I take a moment and remember. And even if it is a half of a lifetime later, I remember being seventeen and hearing the news and having my heart break just a bit and NOT BEING FINE WITH IT. I remember still.