April 16th, 2007.

When someone asks me why I chose Virginia Tech after high school, that date is one of the first things that flashes to the front of my mind. I remember sitting in world history class that year – my junior year of high school – and not really knowing where Blacksburg was, even. But I was watching the coverage on the TV. Senior students were talking about how they had just gotten in…and in the weeks after they were talking about how they were going to JMU or UVA instead. Others, of course, were talking about how they still wanted to go to VT anyways. More than anything, though, I remember the carnage…blood…overbearing media interviews…breaking news updates…teenage Justin sat there wondering to himself, “What really just happened? What is the magnitude of all of this?” I didn’t grasp it.

In retrospect, the fact of the matter is that on that morning a shooter rang bullets out on-campus. Places that I’m so very familiar with, places that I have so many memories of AFTER the fact … were scarred with bullets and vicious memories… one of the most beautiful places I know in this world. A place that, still, I call home. Southwest Virginia. Virginia. Tech.

I’ve never been one to act like I was there when it happened. I don’t know that grief. I didn’t know a single one of the 32 personally. Only recently have I made great friends with someone who was wounded on that day. Since then, I’ve met many who were on-campus, many of them employees of the university, now friends and mentors of mine. I’ve bonded with many first responders and family members of the victims. Still, though: that doesn’t help my understanding of what happened there. To me, it’s the carnage that I saw on the television when I was in high school and couldn’t have pointed out Blacksburg to you on a map. But wow, how time changes things. How optimism changes things. How perseverance changes things. How Hokies change things. Because while it may be the carnage, there’s a particular part of it that I “prefer” to focus on.

I like to focus on how that amazing little southwest Virginia town and a university community came together after tragedy to help each other through a miserably tough time.

It’s my firm opinion that if not for that tragedy,  the world would not know as much about the most important thing and endearing quality about Virginia Tech: a sense of community. That’s why I chose such a great university to be my (physical) home for 6 years.

I know for a fact that the sense of community I’m now a part of existed before that horrible, reckless day. I know that it would still exist to this day, even had that day not happened and I never set wheel on the Drillfield. Frankly, some days I wish that those events had not happened. Those 32 would, hopefully, still be with us here today.

But since 4/16 did happen then today, like every April 16th, and every other day that I proudly represent my alma mater (read: every day), I will continue to live for those 32. For their memory, for their sacrifice, and for their unwavering commitment to Ut Prosim.

On the other hand, I’ve always found it tough to derive strength from pain. Especially when said pain has to do with death. There are 32 families in this world that are not likely to ever recover from that pain. While we, as Hokies, run 3.2 miles and set balloons into the air, and have a Community Picnic…there are families, loved ones, VT employees, and others who were affected and are practically forced to relive that pain.

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“While 32 of our friends and classmates are in Heaven trying to explain what a Hokie is, I stand here sure in the fact that I wouldn’t want to be anything else.”

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Although miserably sad, in truest fact form, we know their loved ones will not be back on this Earth. There’s no “but” to follow that sentence. It’s a fact. How do you say “we will prevail” when there are 32 Hokies somewhere trying to explain what a Hokie even is, and their loved ones don’t get that Hokie back on this side? It’s tough. I’m still coming to terms with that myself. I think of those people so much every single April and especially so every time I set wheel in Cassell Coliseum. I have no answer.

More than anything though, I am grateful. Not grateful that 4/16 happened. I am grateful not just for community, but also for optimism. That’s what the Virginia Tech experience was all about to me. Community, service, and optimism. Community that comes together. Service that helps each other. And optimism that allows us to not be defined by a singular event like this.

You know, growing up, my parents always reminded me to live in a way that people would see me before they would see my wheelchair. They consistently reminded me that many would look at me and judge me based on the fact that I couldn’t walk – and that I should live in a way that didn’t allow them to judge me so immediately. Since April 16, 2009 (photo’d above) when I attended my first Drillfield vigil on 4.16, I decided to take that mantra even further.

Especially on days when I wear maroon and orange (read: most days), I live in a way that allows others to see and maybe even feel the community, pride, and respect that 1 little town in southwest Virginia plants seeds for, sends its residents and students around the world, having given them the tools to do any damn thing they want, hopefully in the spirit of service – Ut Prosim.

We are Virginia Tech.

“What’s a Hokie?”
“I AM.”

And I wouldn’t want to be any damn thing else.