I picture her walking to class, her hair pulled into a neat braid, her bright blue eyes behind her glasses, her posture perfect and her stride steady, the squeak of her sneakers against the floor followed by the sound of her infectious belly laugh echoing through Hannah Hall.<\/p>\n
I picture her beaming as she ran past O\u2019Dowd, waving wildly at anyone she recognized, an almost certain greeting for those of us who spent so much of our time on campus.<\/p>\n
I picture her sitting in a lecture hall, listening intently, carefully considering a question before offering an answer.<\/p>\n
I picture how she would blush modestly at a compliment, brushing it off with something along the lines of, \u201cOh gosh, you are too kind,\u201d as though she had no idea just how special she was.<\/p>\n
I picture her serving others, putting patients at ease and making sure they knew she cared.<\/p>\n
I picture her sipping tea at a coffee shop as we read through each other\u2019s medical school applications, helping one another pursue the futures we had dreamed of.<\/p>\n
I picture her approaching me during her first few weeks of medical school, a little bewildered, like every first-year student, but so excited simply to be there.<\/p>\n
I picture her in the present because I cannot yet bear to think of her as someone who belongs to the past, much less imagine a future in which she is no longer here.<\/p>\n
Grace and I crossed paths in so many different chapters of our lives, and through them all, I felt we were kindred spirits.<\/p>\n
We were both women with many passions and ambitions, invested in our university community and constantly navigating the different facets of who we were. I never had to explain that to Grace. She understood the hustle implicitly: the constant balancing of responsibilities, the drive to pursue so many things at once and the importance of doing so with kindness. There was an unspoken understanding between us that I always appreciated.<\/p>\n