On the Brink of Remembrance

By Amrita Raja

I was a little wary of writing this series of blog entries because, to be honest, I'm still not sure how much life has changed for me since April 16, 2007.

In the two months that followed the tragedy, I found myself with plenty of time. Alone at home with strangers to talk to, I was made to remember and then chose to forget. Suddenly, I was jet-setting to France, and then diving back into a fall semester crowded with classes, homework, friends and concerts. Now, here I am, on the brink of remembrance, and it's as if the last year never happened.

I lost two friends last spring, Leslie Sherman and Ryan Clark, known to me and his other friends as Stack. I walk to classes and see their smiles or hear their laughter in strangers I pass, and I want to find out who these people are, impersonating my friends and tricking me into remembering.

I avoid schoolwork. I procrastinate. I hang out with kids from my dorm. I check Facebook every 15 minutes. Maybe I'm hoping to make some memories that I didn't make the time for in the past. I am cranky. I can't talk to my parents about why homework is the least important thing today, and my counselor says that's OK.

I am anxious about April 16. I never felt closer to the Hokie nation than the week that followed the tragedy last year, and I have fallen out of touch. I am scared of being back in touch, of connecting so intimately again to a group of people that I could lose.

I haven't changed my major. I still laugh at stupid YouTube videos. I still swim and run. I still tell myself I'll learn to play the guitar. But in moments when I step outside myself, I wonder what has changed in me since last spring.

By Amy L. Kovac |  April 11, 2008; 10:15 PM ET  | Category:  Amrita Raja
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