On Wednesday, Sept. 26, Ohio State University first-year soccer player Connor Senn collapsed during a game. He never got back up.
Connor was my cousin.
Connor is my cousin.
Connor will always be my cousin.
When my mom called out of the blue early on Thursday morning I knew something was wrong. I heard her say to me “Connor died,” but I didn’t really believe her. I didn’t want to believe her. It began to sink in when I read the article on the OSU athletic web page and became more real when I read his obituary in the paper the next day. But still I waited all weekend for someone to tell me that it wasn’t true. I wanted so badly for his curly-haired self to come strolling through the door, soccer ball in hand, wearing his trademark smile and making his way over to give me a hug and mess up my hair.
The situation became too real on Saturday morning when the family was able to see Connor at the funeral home, something that initially overwhelmed and frightened me. Now I am so thankful that I was able to see him one last time, to touch his arm and hold his hand and say goodbye.
We all spent the weekend grieving in different ways. All I wanted to do was wrap myself in memories of Connor … to buy out the “Ohio State Soccer” section of the university bookstore and wear the paraphernalia everywhere in his honor. I wanted to pull out every picture of him from our photo albums and study them to recreate the image in my mind. Conn and I were only 10 months apart in age, and there are countless photos of us as toddlers, happily running around, laughing and playing together.
On Sunday we?family, friends, teammates, coaches?gathered to celebrate Connor’s life. I have never spent a more worthwhile two hours. I guess it’s odd for me to say that I loved the memorial, but I did. It was incredible. There was sadness, and there were tears, but there was also laughter and stories. We got to hear about Connor from all different perspectives?as a student, son, sibling, athlete, mentor, teammate and friend. But each of these stories was one in the same in that they all illustrated how much this amazing teenager had touched the lives of everyone he met. The love I felt for him, the sadness I felt because of his death and the admiration I have for him as a person were feelings not unique to me or any of his other family members. Connor evoked these emotions in every single person he knew. I found myself wondering how I was so lucky as to be related to this wonderful guy.
At the end of the service everyone wrote a message to him on a balloon and we gathered outside the chapel to release them. The balloons drifted across the peaceful fall evening sky, upward to Connor. I know he will find a way to let each and every person know he got their message.
I could write about his talent as an athlete, or try to explain his genuine, caring personality or attempt to describe the charm that made everyone fall in love with him, but it won’t do Conn justice. There is not enough paper in the world to write down even half of the things he happily did for other people … a smile to a new student, a phone call to an old friend or a hug for his Gram. These simple gestures meant so much to those who received them. I hope he knew that.
There have been some wonderful tributes. The Columbus Crew (the Major League Soccer team) sent flowers. The entire Ohio State University men’s and women’s soccer teams cancelled games in order to attend his memorial service, and his former high school has retired the number he wore on his soccer jersey. There will be an OSU men’s soccer scholarship in his name, and the first tree?a buckeye?planted in the Jessie Owens Memorial Stadium (home of the men’s soccer team, among others) will be Connor’s tree, complete with a commemorative plaque. And perhaps the most amazing of all: The entire OSU football team wore his college soccer number on the back of their helmets during the game this past weekend. Hearing the TV commentators draw attention to this accolade made me so proud to call Connor my cousin.
I’ve found it hard to find a way to channel my energy and grief right now. If a drunk driver had killed him, then a logical step might be to join SADD. Had cancer taken his life, I might volunteer for the American Cancer Society. But what do you do for a sweet, friendly, funny, talented, healthy 18 year old who died playing the game he loved? So I decided to tell his story. I want people to read about him and know who he was, and to understand how much he’ll be missed.
Love ya, Conn.
