On the morning of March 31st, 2019 -- a Sunday -- I was awoken by a phone call from my father. He was calling me to bear the heart-breaking news that my beloved grandfather had passed away the night before.
My roommate still sleeping, I quickly ran out of my room and into the bathroom across the hall for some privacy.
It was so sudden. So unexpected. So final. I couldn't believe what my dad was telling me over the phone. At first, I was in denial. How could it be true? I had just seen him over Spring Break.
As my dad tried his very best to comfort me over the phone, I was a mess. Learning of news with such a huge, emotional weight to it, all while being hundreds of miles from your loved ones, is one of the hardest things I've ever had to endure.
At that moment, while I was holding back sobs in one of Flint Hall's bathrooms, the one thing I wanted in the world was to be in the presence of my family. I needed them.
I vividly remember spurting out the phrase: "When do I get to come home. I need to be with you all."
I got to travel back home to Washington, D.C. the following day (Monday) and was there until that Thursday for the funeral and to do what we all needed most -- be with family.
Although the funeral was one of the hardest and most emotional events I've ever had to attend, traveling back to Syracuse was heart-wrenching. I didn't feel ready to come back and have to jump right into the routine of everything. I felt like my bereavement was cut short and that I was expected to go back to school and act perfectly okay and normal.
When my mom dropped me off the airport I didn't want to get out of the car. I felt stuck. After a few minutes, lots of hugs and some tears, I walked into Dulles International Airport and made my way back to Syracuse.
As I write this, it's been a week since the funeral. I find that the busier I make myself and surround myself with friends the better I feel. For it is when I'm alone, either in my room or walking around campus, that I find myself to get the saddest. I still find myself wishing to go home at some moments. I have been calling home more often to check in with my parents and see how my grandma is doing.
It's incredibly tough -- but I'm working on it. I'm trying my best to find a new normal.
I love you, Grandpa.
R.I.P. Benny L. Kass (1936-2019).
