3B

Magazine Editor:

Karl Williams

Deputy Editor:

Nabeel Chollampat

Design Editor:

Shane Achenbach

Photo Editor:

Zoey Holmstrom

Creative Director:

Emilie Farrugia

Editor in Chief:

Shoham Geva

Managing Editor:

 Laura Schinagle

Copy Editors:

Emily Campbell

Alexis Nowicki

Jose Rosales

THE statement

The summer before my senior year of high school, I began intern-

ing at a local newspaper. In addition to making copies and transcrib-
ing interviews, I spent much of my time proofreading and formatting 
pages and pages of obituaries.

Common reactions to my position would include: “Why would you 

willingly do that, Lara?” or “I would get too depressed!”

And I did at first. But aside from my willingness to endure anything 

that took me one step closer to my dreams of becoming a professional 
journalist, I eventually told people the job was growing on me.

And it was.
Over time, the sometimes morbid and monotonous task became an 

opportunity to sift through war stories, academic and professional 
paths, passions and activist causes. I learned about the many lives 
people touched and the impacts they left behind. I remember telling 
myself that summer that I would one day write an obituary for some-
one who left an immeasurable impact on my own life.

Now seems like the right time.
For Aunt Paula:
I’ve always worried too much. My best friends nicknamed me “mom” 

sometime between seventh and eighth grade for my general tendency 
to overthink things, and as I grew older, my worries took the form of 
grade anxiety. I became the second semester senior in high school 
who couldn’t stop thinking about an exam until after I’d received my 
grade because what if I failed, and what if Michigan post-rejected me?

Anyone who shares similar stress knows that a decent amount of 

worry stems from the inability to accept stress itself. Is it normal for 
me to worry this much? Am I worrying about this enough? And so on.

One day when I was 11 or 12, my mom asked me: “Do you know who 

worries as much as you? Your Aunt Paula.”

She had no idea at the time just how much that comment would 

affect me, but it really did. It was as if knowing that someone I had 
always looked up to shared similar challenges somehow made my own 
anxiety acceptable.

Aunt Paula, my mom’s older sister, lost an eight-year battle with 

breast cancer at the age of 51 in 2013. The end of her life broke my 
family in so many ways it’s hard to put into words, so I won’t attempt 
to do that here. I will instead try to capture her genuine beauty and 
strength as best I can. 

Aunt Paula was a fast-talking, analytical perfectionist whose elec-

tric smile brightened any room — or mood — I was in.

She attended New York City Public Schools’ hyper-competitive 

Stuyvesant High School before graduating near the top of her class at 
the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School of Business. After 

Wednesday, January 27, 2016 // The Statement 

PHOTO COVER BY ZOEY HOLMSTROM/PHOTO COVER ILLUSTRATION BY SHANE ACHENBACH

B Y L A R A M O E H L M A N
Zooming In: For Aunt Paula

earning her MBA from Columbia, she led a long and successful career in banking 
and software development.

But Aunt Paula was so much more to me than an inspiration; she was a mix 

between my second mother, my best friend and my guidance counselor. When girls 
were mean and boys were weird, Aunt Paula would relate, sympathize and encour-
age me to push through the awkward years. She took me clothes shopping and 
tutored me in math at her kitchen table. Together we would obsess over our favorite 
episodes of “Gilmore Girls” and then read through the 2013 “Fiske Guide to Col-
leges.”

I still struggle to come to terms with her death because, for so long, it seemed to 

me that she was never sick. I now realize that for so many years she masked her own 
stress and fear and nausea to protect those around her from feeling even a fraction 
of the pain she did. Despite a severe diagnosis at the age of 43, my aunt continued to 
get dressed for work, travel the world and make it to every family dinner, birthday 
party, band concert and even field hockey game that she physically could.

Maybe my Aunt Paula was a superhero. But then again maybe she was just wor-

ried; worried that she would miss out on things 
— worried that she would upset 

those around her if she let her inner-anxieties show. I’d like to think my aunt’s anx-
ious perfectionism is what allowed her to fight such a scary disease and live life 
to its fullest for eight years. Over time, I’ve come to accept that my own anxiety is 
what drives me toward my personal goals.

I don’t know for sure, but I doubt I’ll ever stop worrying about the small things. 

Then again, I never want to.

COURTESY OF LARA MOEHLMAN

