Marina Keegan's poignant essay: 'Let's make something happen to this world'

marina-keegan-yale-daily-news-2.jpg Marina Keegan, 22, had just graduated from Yale University and was returning from a trip to Brookline, Mass. where she introduced her boyfriend Michael to her grandmother. The young couple was on their way to a dinner with Marina's father when Michael fell asleep at the wheel and the car crashed Saturday, May 26. Marina was killed. Michael has been discharged from the hospital.

The police are still investigating. They say speed was not a factor and both students were wearing their seat belts. But what is so remarkable about all of this is that in the wake of the crash, the Yale Daily News republished a piece Marina wrote for a special edition of the News distributed at the commencement exercises titled "The Opposite of Loneliness." Excerpts below:

We don't have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I could say that's what I want in life. What I'm grateful and thankful to have found at Yale, and what I'm scared of losing when we wake up tomorrow and leave this place.

It's not quite love and it's not quite community; it's just this feeling that there are people, an abundance of people, who are in this together. Who are on your team. When the check is paid and you stay at the table. When it's four a.m. and no one goes to bed. That night with the guitar. That night we can't remember. That time we did, we went, we saw, we laughed, we felt. The hats.

...

We won't have those next year. We won't live on the same block as all our friends. We won't have a bunch of group-texts.

This scares me. More than finding the right job or city or spouse - I'm scared of losing this web we're in. This elusive, indefinable, opposite of loneliness. This feeling I feel right now.

...

We're so young. We're so young. We're twenty-two years old. We have so much time. There's this sentiment I sometimes sense, creeping in our collective conscious as we lay alone after a party, or pack up our books when we give in and go out - that it is somehow too late. That others are somehow ahead. More accomplished, more specialized. More on the path to somehow saving the world, somehow creating or inventing or improving. That it's too late now to BEGIN a beginning and we must settle for continuance, for commencement.

When we came to Yale, there was this sense of possibility. This immense and indefinable potential energy - and it's easy to feel like that's slipped away. We never had to choose and suddenly we've had to. Some of us have focused ourselves. Some of us know exactly what we want and are on the path to get it; already going to med school, working at the perfect NGO, doing research. To you I say both congratulations and you suck.

For most of us, however, we're somewhat lost in this sea of liberal arts. Not quite sure what road we're on and whether we should have taken it. If only I had majored in biology...if only I'd gotten involved in journalism as a freshman...if only I'd thought to apply for this or for that...

What we have to remember is that we can still do anything. We can change our minds. We can start over. Get a post-bac or try writing for the first time. The notion that it's too late to do anything is comical. It's hilarious. We're graduating college. We're so young. We can't, we MUST not lose this sense of possibility because in the end, it's all we have.

...

We don't have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I'd say that's how I feel at Yale. How I feel right now. Here. With all of you. In love, impressed, humbled, scared. And we don't have to lose that.

We're in this together, 2012. Let's make something happen to this world.

Marina's mother Tracy tells the AP, "I would love my daughter's words, few as they may be, to be shared ... That's all that's left of her now, her words."



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