By Talia Schmidt

My AmeriCorps VISTA Leader, Abby Zent.

When I moved to the boonies, which some people call Montana, I worried that I wouldn’t find a group of friends like I’d had in college. I didn’t need best friends; I just wanted a group of young women I could share my ups and downs with, exchange stories with, and help me grow in my year of finding myself.

I never wanted to join AmeriCorps. My mother basically pushed me into it as I was finishing up an internship at Seattle Business Magazine. Jobs in journalism were scarce back in 2009 (ha, they are even scarcer now), and I decided to look into giving back through a year of service.

AmeriCorps VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America) sounded like an adventure in learning, team building, and creating sustainable communities.

It was all of those things and more. It was refreshing to surround myself with millennials who cared deeply about grassroots activism. It was inspiring to work hard on advocacy campaigns around substance abuse/overdose and teen pregnancy prevention. It was humbling to watch one community talk about the hard stuff and then enact the changes needed to help.

By far, though, the highlight of my year was the friendships I made. Friendships that extend beyond the spending time together realm or camping together under the stars in Butte for the summer folk festival, though those are lovely memories as well. The friendships I’m talking about are the surrogate mothers who took me under their wing, checked in regularly, and shared my successes and challenges during that year.

Friendships like my roommate during my AmeriCorps VISTA year, a local girl my age, who embraced me into her family and town and never let me feel lonely.

Friendships like my AmeriCorps VISTA supervisor, who was always there with advice, a friendly smile, a hug, and a funny story. Though she worked out of Helena and I was in Great Falls, we emailed regularly enough that I felt like I was in the loop in her life, and she in mine. 

At the close of my VISTA year, she asked me to write a poem for our end-of-service ceremony… and deliver it in front of everyone. That’s what she did—she capitalized on people’s strengths and then pushed them to be the best version of themselves.

When I moved to DC, we continued our email love affair. As pen pals, we shared our hopes, fears, funny dating stories, bad job interviews, devotion to family, and love of community service.

When I traveled back to Great Falls last summer for the wedding of my former roommate and only had part of an afternoon free, she drove in from Helena to meet me at the mall for lunch and a shopping spree. I remember thinking she looked exactly the same—upbeat, sarcastic, with that permanent smile sewn on her face.

For all my big milestones, Abby was there, cheering me on.

When I was ready to move on in my career, she sent me job listings. She didn’t hesitate to serve as my reference. When I sent her dream jobs seemingly out of my reach, she encouraged me to apply. When I got one, she shared in my joy.

When I decided I wanted to go to grad school this year, she wrote me a glowing letter of recommendation that got me into Johns Hopkins.

And when I got engaged 2 weeks ago, she sent me the sweetest heartfelt congratulations.

Abby Zent was always in my corner. She was a cheerleader for countless young people starting out their careers in public service. She was a mentor and role model for those who knew her well. The world is a better place because of Abby, who devoted much of her life to helping others.

When I learned of her passing, my stomach dropped and I cried at my desk for most of the day. To lose someone so kind and inspiring at such a young age is a cruel fate I will never understand. I still owed her a long email back from our conversation last week. Her last email to me was happy, funny, and still pushing me to join her volunteer trip to Mexico next year. For that, I am grateful, as it embodies who she was: she was my cheerleader, my mentor, my friend.

In her honor, I vow to continue living up to the person she thought I was. And to hopefully act as a mentor and guide to someone, someday, giving them the same gift she gave me: confidence, ambition, and the faith that everything always works out.

To my friend: You have no idea how many people you have impacted with your meaningful life. You will not be forgotten. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for the chance to get to know you.