A sad day. April 16.
People process grief in very individual ways. People heal in individual ways, and on their own schedule that they may not even be aware of.
It’s April 16, 2008. One year ago I sat nearly all day at my television. I called friends that are students, faculty and staff at VA Tech during the nightmare. It started with checking the weather in the morning, then “News Break”. Little by little information trickled in, augmented by video shot on a student’s cell phone. Then the press conference where they admitted at least 20 were shot. Audible gasp from the bystanders. What?! 20!? And then the unbelievable final tally: 32.
I had to travel a few days after the incident. I flew to L.A. I wore my orange and gold ribbon. As I navigated through airports and security people either looked with curiosity at my ribbon, or smiled sadly. As I flew over and across the country, various people from all over the world expressed their sorrow. It was weird to be from such a small place that people knew about. They would ask, “What’s it like there?” I answered, “We’re all heartbroken.”
Today my daughter danced with her studio, The Center of Dance at the Haymarket Theatre in a celebration for all of the victims, and notably Reema Samaha who was a dancer with the Contemporary Dance Ensemble at Virginia Tech. CED had orchestrated the event. On the Friday before the shootings, CDE’s recital performed their spring concert. They had invited my daughter’s class to dance with them. It was my daughter’s first performance on Pointe, and Reema’s last dance of her life. Over the past year, The Center of Dance has performed in three memorials for the Virginia Tech victims. Each time has been heavily emotional for my daughter and the other young girls whose ages range from 12 to 18. My daughter spoke for them all though when she said to me each time; “This is such an honor.” For me, as I watch Reema’s fellow dancers carry on without her, leaving a space in the choreography where she would have been, I am filled with the certainty that she is there. There is an aura of love and yes, peace. Again, my daughter put it best; “It was like she was hugging the whole building.”
I have been moved by this company’s need to share the process of their grief and healing in a very public way. I am impressed by their generosity of spirit to involve all area dance companies. I am touched to my core by their need to continue to dance. As we all must.
Bad things can happen in small communities. But small communities know how to come together to prevail.
-Lucinda McDermott Piro