On forgiveness

Dear Becky,

Although losing you to a tragic accident has been the most difficult and heart-wrenching experience of my life, you gave me a precious gift. The ability to forgive.

For weeks and probably months following last Spring Break, I was ANGRY. I wanted some sort of cosmic JUSTICE. I wanted things to be RIGHT, not broken. My brain was stuck on all-caps mode for a long time.

At Duke, we talk about the difference between learned knowledge and lived experience, but until this year I didn't truly know the difference. Now I do. A few weeks before Spring Break last year, I got into a heated argument about forgiveness. We debated whether it was possible to forgive someone for a hypothetically heinous misdeed or if forever hating the person was par for the course. My counterpart argued that forgiveness was a sacred tenet and that it was necessary for peace. I felt small – I just could not imagine forgiving someone who hurt a person dear to me. Ongoing resentment seemed like a necessary part of my human response to such a transgression.

But my recent actions haven’t matched those stubborn words. My memories of us kayaking down Blackwater River, scurrying around campus taking pictures for the Round Table scavenger hunt and creating a fire hazard in the common room while watching Duke basketball leave a more lasting impression. As cliché as it sounds, I’ve cleared out the space in my heart that was taken by anger, for love. I talked to someone new about you recently, excitedly recounting our many adventures. Becky, you would have been so proud—because laughter replaced the tears.

On a particularly emotional day last week, I spoke with our friend Ege—she lives in your and Susan's old room now!—and we concluded that if there’s a heaven, then you Becky, are surely one of its inhabitants. You're in a better place than any of us, escaping the wheel of life, death, and rebirth. I hope that you're having some fun. Say hi to Maya Angelou!

Becky, it may seem silly to take spiritual advice from “The Lion King”, but bear with me. Remember when Simba looks into the pool of water, and upon Rafiki's encouragement, finds his father Mufasa? Well, when I look in the water at the duck pond in the gardens, I may not see a fierce red-haired beauty with a pixie cut, but I do see some of your grace, enthusiasm for life and ambition for learning. I also see a fraction of your humility and your ability to put others at ease. Finally, I see your ability to forgive. Because I know you always had it in you and now, I'm starting to, too.

Becky, you were always part of us and you always will be. Only you, Becky.