Fall 2010 has been a semester of goodbyes for Ashland University.

In September, the Ashland community said goodbye to an innovative and inspiring professor, Dr. June Patton, who died in a car accident. Just last week, a heart attack brought the loss of longtime administrator Paul Ditlevson, known for his wisdom and his warmth.

Both deaths were unexpected and untimely. Both people were beloved members of the university.

A third, albeit much less tragic goodbye is scheduled for the middle of December: Miller Hall, the oldest building on campus, will be torn down to make way for a more modern addition.

Although the demolition of a building can hardly be compared to the loss of human life, the hole it will leave in the campus landscape could serve as a visual illustration of the hole left in the campus community by the death of two passionately involved employees and friends.

More importantly, the future of the building and the memory of other buildings torn down over the years serve as a reminder of how to handle loss: Never forget.

Few people currently on this campus know about old buildings that existed 20, 50 or 100 years ago. They may get written about occasionally in a Collegian feature, and their records are well-kept by AU archivist David Roepke, but the general population knows nothing about them.

This must not be true of the people who’ve been part of AU’s history. It’s one thing to forget a collection of bricks, stone and timber that once towered over campus grounds and now lies in a landfill somewhere; but we must never forget the people who’ve touched our lives and helped to make us who we are.

This is rarely a concern, though, because special people have a way of leaving their mark, and based on the interviews Collegian reporters conducted and the memorial services we attended, Patton and Ditlevson have clearly left their mark on AU.

Near the close of Ditlevson’s funeral Nov. 22, the pastor asked how many people would’ve shared a funny or touching memory of him if there were enough time for everyone to speak. Nearly every single person in the densely packed chapel stood up.

Anyone who has had an impact on that many individuals’ lives will not be forgotten.

Patton and Ditlevson may have passed away, but they have not left Ashland completely, and they never will, so long as their legacy lives on in the hearts of the students, staff, faculty, family, community and beyond whom they so often lent a helping hand.