Collegiate Times

I had not gotten much sleep that night. Just off and on, occasionally waking to a bright green 3 a.m. or 6:19 a.m. I was more worried about my resources geology exam that afternoon than anything else.

I had not been doing that well and had hoped to really redeem myself in that class. I woke for the last time a little before 1 p.m., just enough time for a quick study session, but I was interrupted by words from Vawter's cold and bright hallway.

I couldn't make out the exact words, but I knew that something had happened. It was the tone of people's voices - solemn and perplexed.

They couldn't have been talking about the trash that had built up in the bathroom from the weekend or even a failed test or a car accident; it was something different. It was something that I have only heard a few times in my life - the sound of terror.

As I turned on the news, information flew at me more quickly than ever before. Words such as "massacre" and "gunman" were tucked neatly together as I was repeatedly shown an image of  a policeman kneeling behind a tree. Every news channel, big and small, was covering the event.

I believe that I even heard BBC describing the events through a broken computer speaker. The information wasn't chaotic. It wasn't confusing. I knew what had happened; I didn't know the details, but I knew what happened.

April 16, 2007 was a day that I will never forget. A simple beginning of the week that should have been thrown in with the rest of the countless days that have flown by me with great speed and cumbersome precision, but it did not work out as I had planned.

How could I have ever predicted the utter carnage that was about to envelop Virginia Tech with such pain? In all honesty, this event woke me up. It is not that I had not experienced death before in my life; I have actually had more experience with death than many other people of my age.

What jarred me violently into reality was that this type of thing isn't supposed to happen. Death is supposed to take us through accidents, old age and medical ailments. It isn't supposed to grab us in the middle of a lecture or a test; it should never be on purpose.

The suffering our parents were experiencing the entire day didn't even dawn on me until after I finally talked with my mother that night, after the phone lines opened again. She had been trying to see if I was all right since the first news coverage of the event and was quite prepared for the nine-hour drive that night if she hadn't heard from me.

If this was what she was undergoing, I could not even imagine how the parents of the students who were killed must have been suffering. I am sure there are no words to describe the sorrow that gripped them when first finding that their child was killed.

For everyone who was there, the world is a different place after April 16. Even if they weren't, many people will still see a Virginia Tech sweatshirt or car magnet and remember where they were when they heard someone telling the story of how pain and terror struck Virginia Tech.

For me, that day opened my eyes to death, but in the subsequent days that followed I awakened to a Virginia Tech community.

One that is strong and willing to ease each other's pain and one that exemplifies an extended family full of compassion.

In my 19 years, nothing can replace the sound of those voices in the hallway outside my room. I am definitely proud to be a Hokie.