Continuing Coverage by:

Sorrow Tempers Graduation Thrill

May 12, 2007

By Olympia Meola, Holly Prestidge & David Ress

BLACKSBURG — There's a half-circle of hard-packed earth worn in the grass by the 33 "Hokie Stone" memorials.

Grass, though, is starting to rise above some of the drying flowers and candies and candles people have left for the Virginia Tech students and faculty who died April 16.

Parents, students, friends and visitors pace slowly past the stones, 32 of them displaying the names of people fatally shot by student Seung-Hui Cho. The 33rd stone has no name, and among the flowers and candles is a sheet of paper with the inscription "You shall not kill," and another listing the warning signs of mental illness.

The visitors pause, maybe to look at snapshots — Austin Cloyd, for instance, in her cap and gown or as a child in a distant park — or maybe to read a poem: " . . . knowing, while gone, you are missed/But, while here, were blessed . . . may your legacy be more/than the events of a single day."

There are strings of roses, a delicate carved fan, felt flags: "Stay Strong VT" or "Our hearts are with you" from students at a college in Washington state. A child has left a drawing on lined notebook paper — a flower with hearts on each daisylike petal, just above a frowning face with tears running.

Mostly, it is strangers who pause to pay respects, says Jaymie Smolens, who has come from Calvary Chapel in Charlottesville to offer prayers and words of what he hopes is comfort.

Sometimes not.

A young woman, her face half hidden by her long strawberry-blond hair, sobs silently by Nicole White's stone. A young man rests a hand on one shoulder. Her mom pats the other, as if she were still a child, and as if that could ease the pain. Dad stands close, wordless.

Finally, after a minute, the family walks off.

"There's not a lot you can do," Smolens says, "but just a soft touch and a handshake, you know."

. . .

But it is still graduation day.

"One, two, three, smile," says a proud father to his family lined up on the Drillfield, just right to be framed by the twin gray towers of Burruss Hall.

The maroon and orange ribbons on the trees have faded only a little since mid-April, and people still freshen the bouquets of flowers piled at spots across this sprawling campus.

"I think the first half will be remembering," said architecture graduate Jason Huber, pausing for a moment on his way to his graduation.

"After that, we will celebrate."

But everyone will still keep April 16 in mind, he said, even as they start off in pursuit of the new opportunities that follow graduation.

. . .

Eight-year-old Garrett Wiehler crouched close to the ground to read notes scrawled by University of Virginia students on large posters sent to Tech. The posters were on a sunny floor of the student commons, which was plastered with banners sent from schools across the country — from Texas to Massachusetts.

"It makes me feel happy how all the schools are supporting the other school," said Wiehler, who came to see his cousins graduate.

The center is covered in memorials, including long strings of paper cranes hanging from the ceiling. The cranes, sent by a couple of schools, are a symbol of peace.

An entire room on the ground floor holds boxes of hand-made mementos for the taking, including rubber bands noting Bible verses, colorful cards, small embroidered angels, rocks with psalms written on them, and cards carrying the names of the April 16 shooting victims.

Steven Estrada, administrative assistant for student activities, said every week hundreds of packages come through his office, some of which he does not even have room to display.

"When you see this, you can't help but be blown away" by the national show of support, Estrada said. He said he's received something from every state and from some U.S. territories. "The hole that's been created here has been filled by the whole world."

. . .

The number of dinner-table-sized whiteboards for mourners' thoughts and prayers has grown to 48. They're under a caterers' tent in the middle of the Drillfield, along with several long tables full of banners and cards and posterboards.

"There once was a man who lost his children and his wife in a flash flood," says one of the thousands of Magic Markered writings.

"He didn't give up . . . . Instead, he spent the rest of his life building bridges in flood plains."

One board, a white rectangle, is labeled Classroom 205 Norris — a classroom Cho tried to enter but couldn't, because students had barricaded the door.

"I thank my classmates that I am alive," wrote one student.

"You died that we could live. Words cannot express our thanks," wrote another.

"Cherish Life. Cherish Love," wrote a third.

"It's still OK to laugh," wrote another.

Often, the only sound breaking the hum of murmured voices under the tent was the sound of sniffling.

. . .

Not only is it graduation, but these are Hokies.

Outside Lane Stadium, as thousands of smiling graduates lined up in the parking lots, families set up card tables, hauled out coolers, and chowed down.

Tail-gating is a Hokie tradition, explains the family of Joe Wood, a Richmonder who graduated last night with a degree in philosophy — after he prepared the chicken salad and deviled eggs his family munched.

Down the way, the Thrift family from Virginia Beach celebrated, along with relatives from Washington, North Carolina and Indiana. They dined on chicken, marinated broccoli and pink Jello salad.

"We tailgate for everything," said Alan Thrift, celebrating his newly minted master's degree.

. . .

From the whiteboards on the Drillfield:

"With you travel the hearts and minds of a touched few, those touched of your spirit and the divinity in which you swam."

"To all who were lost here on Monday, we will never forget. We love and miss you."

"I only met you once but you changed my life forever."

"Maxine, I swear I just saw you yesterday with a smile on your face."

"Suffering is a gift. Our lives are a gift. Love is a gift. Shall we always remember these innocents."

"I was shot in NORRIS but I learned to forgive and help other Hokies that need me. WE CAN DO IT. GOD BLESS."

Contact staff writer Olympia Meola at omeola@timesdispatch.com or (804) 649-6812.

Contact staff writer Holly Prestidge at hprestidge@timesdispatch.com or (804) 649-6945.

Contact staff writer David Ress at dress@timesdispatch.com or (804) 649-6051.