This article is a companion piece to the regular "Your World Today" commentary. As the academic year nears its end, The Slate transitions from one Editor-in-Chief to another. Read 2024-2025 EIC Connor Niszczak's piece here.

Throughout my college career, “everything happens for a reason” was the mantra I adopted to soften disappointment’s harsh blow. 

I repeated the phrase to myself when I drifted apart from my best friend from high school, when my car was towed sophomore year and when I didn’t leave Australia engaged to Robert Irwin. 

No matter what obstacle got in my way, this cliché consistently helped me look at the bright side, and I began to view every hardship as a minor setback in the grand scheme of life. 

On the surface level, this may seem like a good outlook to have. The ability to recover quickly from difficult situations is an admirable skill. But I began to look at misfortune as a foe to be conquered. A battle to be won. And I created an illusion that things would always work out the way I wanted. 

Not everyone is fortunate enough to live for 20 years without experiencing tragedy. I consider myself extremely privileged. 

But reality eventually catches us all, and she came crashing down on me at the end of last year. 

Christmas is undeniably my favorite time of the year. Even though my black heart yearns to favor Halloween, the nostalgia of Christmas fills me with an unimaginable joy that triumphs every other holiday.

Following a practically perfect Christmas, my life was at an all-time high, and I was subconsciously planning a classic end-of-year post on Instagram to highlight how amazing my 2024 had been — that post never happened.

On Dec. 27, my father unexpectedly passed away. It was the worst day of my life. 

After I lost my dad, the five words that got me through so many hard times felt like a massive slap in the face. Everything happens for a reason? 

What possible reason could there be to explain this? 

The past four months have been a train wreck, to put it mildly. 

I never expected that I would have to learn how to navigate life without my dad at age 20. 

In all honesty, one of the hardest things for me was returning to Shippensburg in January after my world had shattered a month prior. 

In the beginning, I was constantly fighting an internal battle. One moment, I was perfectly content to live in denial of my dad’s death. The next, I wanted to scream about it.

It took me a while to finally open up about what happened. Saying it out loud still is not easy. 

But I will be forever grateful to all of the people who took time to listen, cried alongside me and continue to support me through the darkest time in my life. Thank you, truly. 

As I look ahead to the fall, I feel hopeful because I know I have an amazing support system at Shippensburg. 

I look forward to my new role as Editor in Chief at The Slate and to spending my last semester with the people I care about.

But there will always be something missing from my life. My dad is not going to be there to see me take on this new role. 

He will not be at my college graduation. He will not be at my wedding. And it is just not fair. 

With all that said, I leave you with a revision to my former mantra: everything happens. 

There does not always have to be a reason or a benefit to the hardships we face in life. But everything happens, and we have to find a way to keep moving forward despite it. 

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