6A / NEWS / WEDNESDAY, MAY 11, 2011 / THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN / KANSAN.COM Ben Pirotc/EKANSAN Lindy Anderson holds a photo of her and her dad from her high school graduation. Anderson's father died in 2009. Many college students like Schaadt, Anderson and Schroer are preparing for independence by educating themselves for future careers while still depending on parents for help with tuition, health and car insurance and transportation. They are exploring relationships with potential partners, while celebrating holidays and family milestones with mom and dad. They are living on their own in dorms, fraternities and sororities and apartments, yet often thinking of their parents' house where they grew up as "home." They are responsible for clothing and feeding themselves, while sometimes hauling laundry bags full of dirty clothes home to mom and dad and appreciating their home-cooked meals. In short, the leap from dependent child to independent adult is more daunting for any college student without the help of a parent who has been there before and is now — suddenly — gone. According to the American Sociological Review, one in 10 children lose a parent before they reach age 25. Debra Umberson, a professor of sociology at the University of Texas and author of "Death of a Parent: A Transition to a New Adult Identity", said there is little research conducted on college students and the death of a parent. The effect of losing a parent is devastating at any age and marks a turning point in a person's life, she said. "For people in college, one of the big issues for them is that it's premature," she said. "You're supposed to have your parent at that age." Umberson said adult children who experience the death of a parent show increased psychological distress and depression, increased alcohol use, a decline in health and a decline in the quality of relationships. She said these effects can be apparent for up to three years after the death of the parent. years after the "Most of us are sort of in denial of death, and this is one of those things that pierces that denial," she said. college students who lose a parent are affected emotionally, psychologically, physically, academically and financially. At the very time they are about to launch independent lives, they lose the people they rely on most for direction. Anderson wonders who will walk her down the aisle when she gets married; Schaadt's grief led to depression, alcohol abuse and bad grades; the fact that Schroer lived in Topeka and commuted to the University means he will only now move to Lawrence and learn how "to be a real college kid." CHRIS'S STORY Chris Schaadt quickly parked in his driveway in Lenexa. Police officers standing on the porch of his house tried to talk to him but he pushed his way inside. living room covered by a white curtain. Schaadt learned from his dad that his mother had died of cardiac arrhythmia. His mother's body lay on the floor of the living room covered by a white sheet. The next five days swirled by with what seemed like hundreds of people flowing through his house. Plates of food brought by friends and family filled every square-inch of counter space in the kitchen. sather space in the street. Almost 700 people filled the Lutheran church in Lenexa where the memorial service was held. Near the front of the church, flowers surrounded a picture of his mom wearing her wedding dress. Schaadt remembers how stunningly beautiful she looked in the photo- stumbling beyond the company and bustle were gone and Schaadt was alone with his memories. That's when darkness set in. He was back at school — lonelier than ever. As a freshman, he sat in giant classes in Budig Hall, alone in a crowd, no one knowing what he was dealing with. He stopped going to class. He couldn't stand being in school. His dad thought he was going to classes, but he spent his days in his room. He withdrew from half of his classes. The next semester wasn't any better, and he seemed to spend more time at home in Lenexa than on campus. After his semester ended with a plummeting grade point average, Schaadt transferred to nearby Johnson County Community College. He couldn't stand to be at school in Lawrence, so he thought living at home would be better. He was wrong. He felt like he had nothing. No friends. No mom. No classes he wanted to go to. He was wrong Hed spend his time alone in his basement at home watching TV and playing video games. home watching 14 I play with Some dayshed hang out with the one friend he saw regularly — an ex-Marine who had a family. They'd drink beer and play video games all day. LINDY'S STORY Soon, he dropped out of Johnson County Community College. The downward spiral that began with his mother's death had ended with him out of school, searching for a job and considering the Marine Corps. Schaadt now works at Lenscrafters in Overland Park. games all day. At home in the evenings, he'd try to hide being intoxicated from his dad. When his brother and dad went to bed, he'd start drinking again and continue into the morning. As soon as she heard her aunt's trembling voice on the phone, she knew something was wrong. Her aunt struggled to get the words out that her brother — Anderson's dad — was gone. Anderson's dad died at home - alone presumably of a heart attack. He had suffered from heart problems for years. He had three heart attacks already. Anderson had pondered before how she might respond: "What would I do if someone close to me died?" She thought memories and emotions would race through her head. Instead, there was nothing. She was numb. Instead, there was nothing. She was humble. "You just, you can't prepare for it," she said. "You really feel like your world just ended." You really feel like your world just ended." As it her dad dying wasn't enough, it was the week of midterms. She had three tests to take. At least they'd keep her mind off of everything. Well, maybe. Her classmates could tell something was wrong. Her face and eyes were red from crying. They could tell something was up. The image provided is too blurry to accurately recognize any text. She wasn't herself. The drive from Lawrence to Lenexa on K-10 seemed to take forever. Once she got home, she walked into an empty house. She would stay in the house alone for three days and nights. Because her dad hadn't planned a funeral and didn't have a will, Anderson made almost all of the arrangements. She found a place for the funeral. She designed the memorial pamphlet that would be handed out at the funeral. She took money out of her own savings account to pay for the funeral. She called relatives and friends. account to pay for. She considered hiring a lawyer to deal with her dad's estate, but ended up declining because she couldn't handle the expense. She faced hard decisions, made more difficult by her grief. She couldn't help but think that a 19-year-old shouldn't have to plan her father's funeral. But now, she surveyed the foyer of the funeral home, more nervous than she'd ever been in her life. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to gather the courage to see her father one more time before his body was cremated. old shouldn't have to plan her hike so Anderson endured the worst three nights of her life. She spent three days at home in Lenexa — alone — working to prepare for the funeral. She would scream and yell, angry at the world. She would beg for her dad to come back. She would try to sleep, but instead lay awake thinking of her dad. She walked into the room where her dad's body lay on a table in front of the room, a handmade quilt covering his body from the chest down. She wondered where the quilt had come from. It looked like something a grandmother would make; she thought. Chris Schaadt and his mom, Dana and their dog on Election Day 2008. Schaadt was a freshman at the University in this photo. This is the last photo Schaadt has of his mom before she died. The floral smell of potpouri filled the 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100