Kolleen Gladden ‘21
Photographer
As the COVID-19 pandemic whips its way across the globe, I find myself reminded of my own personal experiences with the uncertain and life-altering. At fifteen, a natural disaster transformed my sleepy hometown into international news, prompting a media frenzy and a visit from President Obama, forever immortalized by a photograph of the President standing next to a farmer amidst the destruction.
Pictured: President Obama stands with residents after the harrowing tornado. Photo Courtesy of the Obama White House, posted on YouTube.
Ironically, Joplin through the eyes of the world was Joplin thoroughly unrecognizable to its residents. There is no textbook for the end of the world as you know it. Nobody can pass you an outline to serve as a guide. Loss will never be convenient; grief can never be one-size-fits-all. I cannot claim to have any answers, but I do know what it is like to be confronted with an instant and permanent change of plans, to have school canceled, memorials taking its place.
It is Sunday, 5:30 p.m. on May 22, 2011. Storm sirens are blaring relentlessly from all directions. The sky is blanketed in an unusually cloudless darkness. My dad is barreling down Range Line with the barest regard for traffic laws. We pull up our driveway and bolt into the garage in tandem amidst a power outage. When the storm had subsided, we ventured back towards that same street we’d just left behind. I vividly remember seeing that the massive Sutherland’s billboard had been halved and letting out a silent gasp. We drove over the hill to a city on fire.
The tornado that tore through Joplin, Missouri that day was the worst in modern history. In the span of ten minutes, 158 people were killed, thousands were injured, and over 1,200 were missing. A town was razed to the ground; an entire region’s economy flatlined. Among the destruction was one of the area’s only two hospitals; medical personnel scrambled to accommodate the influx. With cell towers destroyed, the moments in the direct aftermath were perhaps the most horrific live demonstration of Schrödinger’s thought experiment; every person you love is both alive and dead, and you’re torn between praying for just one bar of service and wondering if it’s better not to know. As the days crawled by, one particular name among the missing that loomed in every person’s mind was Will Norton, a beloved high school senior who’d been accepted to an elite film school. He had a sizable YouTube following and an infectious personality. The powerful vortex had pulled him out of a car through the sunroof, his father shattering every bone in both arms trying to hold him in place. I had been at his house just the week before. His mom sat across from me, listlessly stirring her coffee, before looking up and saying, “He’s just so busy that we rarely get to see him these days. I am looking forward to the summer when we finally get to spend time together again.” When they finally found him nearly a week later, those words haunted my mind. His funeral was standing room only.
Pictured: The devastating aftermath. Photo Courtesy of Wikipedia.
When we are faced with unimaginable difficulty, we are given a rare opportunity for unimaginable growth. Such moments have shaped me, and I will carry the wisdoms imparted to me for as long as I breathe. Perhaps they can offer some comfort to you as well.
1. I could be great at my job and they could still replace me if needed. There will always be someone smarter, more charismatic, or more driven. My focus is squarely on the areas where I cannot be substituted. My family and friends would rather have the real Kolleen than a K 2.0 with better organizational skills and a lessened dependency on caffeine (or so they claim). Nine years ago, every person in that packed chapel left with a Will Norton-sized hole that will never be filled or replaced. Find these places where you are indispensable and prioritize them.
2. The thing you can control in life is how you react. Things can change in the blink of an eye. Coming to terms with the uncertainties of life brings a sense of peace.
3. On that same note, do not put life hold for the undetermined future. While making present sacrifices for things to come is necessary and wise, make note of the things that make life worth living and keep them in your routine.
4. Internal motivators go much further than external acclaim. When circumstance wipes away those extraneous factors, you must have a fire burning within.
5. If we are fortunate, we will live long enough to join the vulnerable population. They deserve our love and care, because one day we will deserve the love and care of our community in return.
6. Do not feel guilty for mourning the loss of life’s little pleasures. In a crisis where human life is on the line, it might seem silly to feel sad over the little things. Grief and disappointment are not finite resources. It is okay to be sad over lost ceremonies, birthday parties, coffee dates, upcoming travels, or human interactions. It shows that you are human and these things mattered to you.
7. As complex creatures, we can hold space for the tragedy of a situation while seeking out the joy. Humor is okay and good. Several weeks after the tornado, I was running with some teammates. One lamented her messy room, and a dear friend who’d lost her home retorted, “Well, my room is probably spread across three separate counties.” We had spent many moments before grieving with one another. This time, we collapsed into laughter.
8. In times like these, community is more important than ever. Joplin’s real first responders were your next-door neighbors. Folks emerged from the wreckage of their own houses and immediately went to check on one another. Churches and local businesses opened their doors to all in need. A homegrown charity I worked for went into overtime fundraising to successfully ensure that low-income families would have financial support once federal and state aid had subsided. Joplin has since rebuilt beyond what it had ever been previously, because we were looking out for one another.
9. 1 Corinthians 13:13: “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.”
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kcg3ar@virginia.edu