Candelight Vigil for Virginia Tech at NCSU

I recently attended a Vigil here at NC State in honor of Virginia Tech. I listened to the university president talk about coming together in the midst of the tragedy, about how we should reach out and touch someone at Virginia Tech, and about how we didn't need to be directly touched by this terrible event to feel the pain it has brought. I listened to people tell us about the truly wonderful and brave friends they had at Virginia Tech who died yesterday. A tragedy of this proportion doesn't just touch one person, or one community; it touches the entire nation. Thousands of people met across the nation yesterday and today and tonight just like NCSU did, to pray for those that had died, to pray for those that were injured, to pray for grieving family and friends, and to pray that nothing like this ever happens again. After everyone had finished talking, the Chancellor lit the first candle. And then the people nearest him lit their candles from the flame of the Chancellor's, and then turned around to light the candles of the people behind them. Those people turned around and lit the candles of the people behind them. One of those people turned around and lit Callie's candle, and Tim's candle, and my candle. I turned around and lit another woman's candle, and then another man's candle, and so the flame spread. It was truly incredible. Within minutes, the one tiny flame that Chancellor Oblinger started with had spread to become hundreds of tiny flames, burning brightly in unity to light up the entire field. The flames symbolized hope, how even in dark times like these the little bits of hope each one of us carries inside can unite to form one brilliant torch to light the darkness of despair. What my president said about a person not having to be directly touched by this tragedy to feel the pain it has wrought is true. I know no one at Virginia Tech, but that has not stopped me from grieving along with that community; it has not stopped my heart from aching when see the panic etched on the faces of parents looking for their children; it has not stopped me from crying when I see photos of the people who were killed, laughing and smiling as though they would live forever. Nor should it.