This is not the end.

I’ve always been a saver – the last piece of chocolate, a new dress, a new book. It is part of my reverence for small moments and my own need for small rewards along the way.

Last summer, I bought a dress I planned to wear while singing at my Baccalaureate Mass. This occasion takes place in the basketball arena at my university, complete with a full orchestra and usually around four thousand attendees. After singing at three other Commencement Masses, I was counting down the days to my own.

Back in August, I sang at the Welcome Mass, the service that commemorates the start of a new year, with particular attention paid to the first year class and their parents. My mom told me to wear the dress I had purchased for the Commencement Mass, and although I initially resisted, I thought, why not? I had a gut feeling that I should wear the dress.

This event spiraled into an attitude I held through the entirety of my senior year – one of seizing the present moment instead of saving things for a later date. My life changed in little ways – I spent more time with friends, I wore clothes I had purchased instead of leaving them in my closet, I applied for jobs I thought I could not get. But it also affected my life in much bigger ways – I went on a silent retreat and travelled to Mexico with my friends from Campus Ministry, I stood in the front of my dance classes for the first time, I started celebrating every day.

When I left campus in March due to the pandemic, I wrote a few thank you emails to people that had shaped me as a person during my time at LMU. One of these emails went to John Todd, my ballet and musical theatre professor of four years. I had originally planned to save these emails to the end of the school year, but the pandemic left me with a deep sense of dread.

I am so thankful I sent that email to John, as he passed away from cancer not even two weeks later. I did not even know he was sick. His death changed my whole perspective on my senior year and this time in isolation. I know now how important it is to tell the people you love that you love them.

This weekend, I graduated summa cum laude from Loyola Marymount University with a dual degree Bachelor of Arts in Dance and English. I was honored with the Marian Award and a Presidential Citation for my work in service, leadership, and advocacy. As the Program Scholar for both my majors, I was also honored as the Scholar of the Year, graduating with the highest GPA in my class.

I'm overwhelmed by this type of recognition - seeing my face on my university's website is not something I ever imagined. As much as I feel grateful my hard work is being honored, I would give it all up to be back in Los Angeles to celebrate graduating with my class, to have John teach ballet again, to take a final bow with my fellow dance majors. I knew graduating would be sad, but I never imagined it would be this heartbreaking.

Even though I am mourning the loss of my Baccalaureate Mass and my graduation ceremony, I am so grateful I celebrated all along. The journey matters most of all, and I would not trade my time at LMU for anything.

In the end, when everything is closed and we are dancing in our bedrooms, it is not awards or festivities or pomp and circumstance that matter, but community. I am honored and humbled to be a member of the Class of 2020. Our resilience during this time gives me hope for a future where we will dance together again. This is not the end.