Column: Finding comfort in routine
Dan Sheehan, CT Regular Columnist
April 24, 2007
Once upon a time, we went to class like normal students. We partied like normal students. We slept in our apartments and dorms, ate in our dining halls and believed the sun would rise and fall without incident. Monday's nightmare reminded us that our routine, our habits, the sense of normalcy that guides our days and nights means nothing in the grand scheme of things.
Every few years it seems we are exposed to great tragedy as if to remind us of the grander meaning of life, and to reassess our priorities accordingly. I've been at Tech for roughly 1,000 days: many of them stand out, but most are like the rest: uneventful. Monday reminded me that nothing is constant, that nothing is resilient to change, no matter how hard we hold on.
I asked a friend of mine if he thought it was problematic that the gravity of what happened hadn't set in on me yet. I told him that I can't process Monday's events; that no matter how many times I hear and see it on the news, I can't wrap my brain around the fact that the worst mass murder in United States history happened at my school, to my friends, in my community. He told me that I'll never be able to process it because we, as human beings, aren't meant to process such horror and such evil. So, I guess I'll take comfort in the fact that I'll never fully grasp the events of April 16, because if I did, I don't think I'd get out of bed.
While the smile on my face is forced, I've decided that it's time to move on, to keep going. I'm going to do the things I did on April 15. I will carry the memories of the ones we lost, and I will heed the lessons we learned that day, but I have to move on; we have to move on. I'm going to sleep through my 12:20 on Monday because I still think it's too early. I will go to class on Tuesday morning, and be woefully unprepared: if I actually did my work, I think my teachers would be worried about me. I will tell the same jokes I would normally tell--we need to smile before we forget how. I'm going to go to Frank's Deli and order turkey and roast beef on wheat with lettuce, onions, muenster cheese and a pinch of oregano: I sincerely hope the guy behind the counter makes the same "d-----" face he always makes when he sees me, because he knows my order is a pain in the butt. If he smiles and says, "would you like chips with that" I'll know he's not doing alright.
I'm still getting out of bed at 9:15 a.m. to catch the 9:20 bus and not caring what I smell like. I think fleece sweat pants are acceptable for 9:30 classes and that's not going to change. I'm going to pet random dogs, talk to people I've never seen in my life, and still ask the waiter at Gillies for a bacon cheeseburger. I'm going to keep using names like Darth Vader, Bueller... Bueller and Lloyd Christmas on the Au Bon Pain sandwich form. I'm going to talk, laugh, swear, tease, eat, sleep, drink and generally be merry just like I was on April 15. Blacksburg has been the center of the universe for long enough--it's time for a return to normalcy.
But here's what I'm going to do different: I'm going to leave my iPod at home when I walk to class--I want to talk to people, to hear what they're saying, to be cognizant of the world around me. Instead of looking ahead and hoping not to make eye contact with someone I might know, I'm going to look everyone that passes me directly into their eyes, to affirm that we're both real human beings. We need to be more aware of each other and start breaking out of the bubbles we try to isolate ourselves in. Even the most simple expressions of compassion could be what keeps someone going.
As Gertrude said to her son in Hamlet, "cast thy nighted colour off." Don't hesitate to shed your tears, or light candles or pay your respects but don't be afraid to let go. Let's honor the memory of our fallen peers by picking up our lives where we left off. We need to get back to the things we know. April 16 was something like none of us had ever encountered. We need a return to the familiar. We need to do the things we did before and live our lives: it's what they'd want us to do. So find comfort and healing in routine. But don't leave behind the lessons of that day. Don't leave a word unspoken, or a gesture ungiven. We've had the awful reminder, that even in youth, life is precious, and at times, unexpectedly shortened. Show the world the spirit of this university is unbreakable. Show the world that we are Virginia Tech, and we are prevailing.