February 9, 2014, a Sunday. After attending a Valentine’s
Day party with friends, I learned the sad news of my friend Nick Votaw’s
passing. Nick was universally loved at Bellarmine and the true embodiment of the
Bellarmine motto “Man for Others”. He was extremely committed to serving others
and sharing his faith. In addition, he was an overall great guy. He had been
suffering from cancer and I hadn’t heard from him for a while until the news
broke. I spent the rest of that day grieving and in a somber mood, only telling
a few close friends before the 9 PM student Mass what had happened.
I took care of a few things before that Mass. I borrowed a cowgirl
hat from my friend Emily to carry in Nick’s honor that night. She was the only
one I remember explaining why I had wanted to borrow the hat. I asked my friend
Molly, who coordinated the Eucharistic Ministers at Mass, to volunteer as a
special request, which she granted. In addition, it was the day when those who
went on Discover retreat came back (quite a few people I knew) and a lot of my
friends had gotten their abroad placements, so there was a lot of happiness and
excitement going on, and for good reason.
Fragments of my experience at Mass that night had come back
to me a few day ago. I remember that feeling of being around people
right before Mass, all the happiness and excitement people felt, finding myself
incapable of feeling those feelings in that moment. I remember the questions
about, “Why do you have a cowboy hat with you?” and not being in a mood to
explain it then and there. I remember some friends starting to notice I was uncharacteristically
sitting quietly before Mass and sensing something was off with me. I remember
clutching the hat that entire Mass, and clutching it especially harder during
the prayers for “those who had died”. I remember walking out of the Mission and
walking silently to my car, followed by a very silent drive home.
To be honest, I could tell you very little about what
actually happened during the “Mass” part of Mass. The candidates for RCIA were
being presented, which included two good friends of mine (one being in RCIA and
the other a sponsor), but I couldn’t tell you past that. I don’t know what songs
were sung that night; all I can say is that I sung a lot less dynamically. I
don’t remember who the priest was and I don’t remember anything from the
homily.
Normally this is the part of the blog post where I start
explaining the meaning behind the story/experience I present. But to be honest,
I don’t know what the meaning of my blurry and fragmented memory of this Mass was. I don’t
know what it means that I could only remember my internal experience and not
anything else about what actually happened during the service. Maybe it’s one
of those things that are meant to just be what they are.
At the very least, I can say this: this specific memory is a
part of me. That experience of being, amidst the sadness, is a part of me. It
happened when it happened and just so happened to come back to me recently.
I miss Nick, but I know he’s up in Heaven where he
deserves to be. RIP Cowboy.
