Senior Reflection: Chris Serrao
A couple of weeks before entering as a prep at Exeter, I lost my father to a heart attack. A healthy man, only 51 years old. Why him? Attending school after such a large loss in my life seemed impossible. However, looking back at my time at PEA, I recognize the tremendous support the Exeter community has had for me. Losing a parent is one of the greatest challenges in life, but I dearly appreciate two clubs on campus as being communities for me to rely on: Fight Club and Catholic Exonians.
Early in my upper year, I received a school-wide email from Dean Griffith, Dean of Health and Wellness, titled “It’s not what you think.” Perplexed by the title, I perused the email, discovering a place called Fight Club, a space for students who had lost a loved one. I had heard about the club vaguely before, but I never imagined there could be a community of students who also lost someone close. I had heard from one of the graduating seniors that they were meeting during the pandemic, albeit over Zoom. Grief was so personal that it didn’t feel fitting to share my story with people I’d never met, over Zoom nonetheless, especially as a prep.
The first meeting I attended we met in the Sinha room, with about 10 students seated at a table. The counter was adorned with various assortments of pastries, from apple strudels to chocolate chip cookies. While I didn’t recognize any faces in the room, I felt relaxed. I was shocked at the number of students who were present since I had never known anyone on campus who had lost a loved one.
We started the meeting by going around the room, sharing our names and who we had lost. Someone lost their mother to cancer, and another lost their brother to COVID. The student right next to me mentioned how they had also lost their father to a heart attack, just like me. It wasn’t awkward because we had the chance to be completely honest, not having to sugarcoat the reality of losing someone dear to us. I learned that everyone shared the same discomfort when asked about our families visiting during family weekend, or if our parents were coming to drop us off at the start of the term. Fight Club was a place where I could go every week, bond with community members, and hear people’s stories about grief. Previously, I had felt the responsibility to bear the brunt of the pain and move on quickly, to take care of my family. However, I had the chance to connect with others who felt the same dull pain pierce their hearts.
Fight Club gave me a place to share my feelings. Though numb avoidance of pain had presented reduced immediate strife, Fight Club empowered me to confront unmanaged suffering. I met a lot of amazing people through the club and learned a lot about the virtue of resilience: how we can build it as part of a group. To approach grief with resolve, we must understand its nature: presenting sudden strikes sprung from triggers in our everyday lives. From the singing cardinal perched outside my window to an ephemeral glimmer of his Issey Miyake cologne; I make sure to greet these transient artifacts with solemn veneration. Beyond learning these skills in Fight Club, we also learned what to do when on the verge of an emotional breakdown, how to comfort someone, and most importantly, how to reach out.
This past year, I’ve become a co-head of Fight Club. I’ve had the opportunity to be on the opposite side of the veil, helping other students on campus who have lost loved ones. There was a student who lost her father a few months ago. I recalled my experience sinking deep into grief and the transformative guidance I received speaking with Mr. Perdomo and Ms. Geer on campus, and I was able to offer it to her as potential faculty to lighten the load. There is nothing than any one person can do to remove the indelible mark of losing a loved one, but we can provide comfort by sharing chocolate chip cookies and conversation.
One of the gifts my father bequeathed to me was my Catholic faith. I went to mass alongside my parents as a kid, but I felt detached. However, after my father’s passing, the Church became my contemplative space. Catholic Exonians provided me the chance to examine deeply and even question my own faith. Over the past four years, I’ve come to find vestiges of my loss within Catholic theology. We venerate Mary, the Mother of God, Mater Dolorosa, who went through more suffering than we can ever imagine. She is often depicted with seven swords piercing her heart, which cannot begin to describe the sorrow she was met with, knowing that her son was to die an unjust death. In a world where suffering and discomfort caused aversion, Holy Mother Church embraced it. In Catholic Exonians, my peers have helped me understand the beauty and simplicity within the Christian worldview.
Every day, I pray the beads of a cherry wood rosary while meditating on the sorrows of Christ. With each one, I can connect my transient amount of grief to that of God who suffered the most in human history.
