I’ll always remember Thursday, March 12, 2020 as the day I lost my senior year.

I made the dreaded trek from Fontaine to McCann after my 9:30 a.m. class for practice, thinking about when I could drop off letters at the post office, write my fellowship essays and stock up on groceries for the lacrosse-edition of spring break. Little did I know that my final semester of college wasn’t what I had hoped for.

The MAAC held a conference call at 1 p.m. that day. Our coach told us she would hold a meeting if anything had changed, but she was optimistic we would continue our two-game winning streak at Tenney Stadium that Sunday.

I returned to my dorm for a late lunch and shower as I usually do after practice. My phone buzzed at 2:07 p.m. with a message from a captain. “Meeting in locker room 2:30.” That was the moment I knew.

When a game doesn’t go your way, it’s easy to place blame –– on your teammates, your coaches, the opponent, the referees, the fans, the parents making calls and coaching from the stands or the weather. But there was no one to blame for the abrupt end to our season, the reason we would not have a senior night or our terminated dream of winning a MAAC Championship.

We sat in the locker room and cried. There was simply nothing else to do. They say hard work pays off, but in this case it didn’t. All those 5 a.m. wake up calls during our off season, brutal conditionings, and hours in the weight room felt like they were ultimately for nothing. We lost our chance to showcase our talent, grit and teamwork.

While in the locker room, one of the seniors stood up and said something along the lines of, “I’m sorry but I just can’t be here anymore. It’s too sad.” We brought it in for a final cheer. “Family on three. One, two, three. FAMILY.” We left the locker room still trying to comprehend that our uniforms wouldn’t be worn again this year, and for seniors, probably ever again.

It’s been roughly three weeks since we had a final team meeting, where seniors said we wouldn’t remember the run tests or stick drills. Instead, we would remember singing karaoke on the bus and the time #26 hit Coach not once but twice while playing lacrosse baseball. We reminded the underclassmen that it wasn’t necessarily the sport itself that fueled our passion but rather it was the people––the people who made overcoming hardships more bearable. The inactive team chat signifies to me that everyone’s still grieving and processing in their own way.

I chose to remain on campus for spring break to cherish the limited time with my friends, desperate for any sense of normalcy or closure. Also, I feared going home to Vermont and spreading unwanted germs to two members of my immediate family who are at higher risk after recently undergoing chemotherapy.

I was approved to live on campus past March 30, but the next day, all students were ordered to vacate due to Governor Cuomo’s Executive Order. Fortunately, one of my Freshman in Florence Experience cohorts welcomed another FFE friend and myself into his off-campus house on Fairview Ave. The three of us have adjusted to remote learning and feel somewhat like young teenagers again, sleeping past 10 a.m., eating every snack in the pantry and worrying about what our future holds. On the sunny days, we take walks on the deserted campus, picturing the herds of students walking to and from class. Even though I’m still living in Poughkeepsie with close friends, there are no more post-bar trips to McDonald’s, Palace Diner dates or Sunday study sessions at Starbucks.

I miss lacrosse more than ever and the structure and discipline it implemented in my life. I have nothing but time to complete assignments, yet instead of doing homework, we’ve been watching Tiger King, trying to master the “Savage” TikTok dance, building our LinkedIn networks, sending memes on Instagram and attempting to stay fit with at home ab and cardio workouts in the basement.

The NCAA just announced all spring athletes have been granted another year of eligibility, another chance to compete. That puts athletes who are a part of the Class of 2020 in a predicament. There’s a reason it’s called a four-year plan; most students don’t anticipate completing (and financing) five years of college. Many of us have looked forward to starting our careers, moving into a shoebox apartment and beginning the next chapter of our lives we now have the luxury of designing ourselves. However, the whole world is on halt. We’re living through the COVID-19 pandemic that will be in history textbooks. I’m stressed about getting a roll of toilet paper now, whereas a month ago I was anxious about midterm grades and finding housing for my summer internship in Boston.

In my Honors Senior Seminar class, we’re reading Wherever You Go, There You Are by Jon Kabat-Zinn. The quote, “You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn how to surf,” has never rung truer. My heart goes out to every senior in high school and college who will not engage in highly anticipated and well-deserved senior festivities. But we will continue to learn how to surf, and we will face this adversity together, which in the long run means more than moving the tassel.

When we run sprints in lacrosse, someone always says, “Do it for the people on your left and right.” Murmurs of “With you, Julia. With you, Chloe,” echo down the line as we triple-check that our toes are behind the line. When you’re on a collegiate sports team, every action you do is for and with the people around you. When you’re at the goal line about to run a 300-yard sprint, you know you’re a part of something much bigger than yourself, and that’s never for nothing.

I called my parents the other day, and my dad said, “We don’t care that graduation is postponed. But do make sure you get that damn diploma.”

Whether I receive my diploma in the mail or from President Murray at a postponed commencement ceremony, it won’t be for me but for everyone who’s been beside me, riding every wave until it breaks at shore.

Marist Women’s Lacrosse’s Emma LeMay: Riding The Waves of Senior Year

MARIST CIRCLE